Your Republic is Calling You
by Kankoku-ssi
Summary: Northern spies still invade South Korea to this day. That's why the citizens of the South must always be vigilant watchers, and look out for those whom seem different from them. But what happens when a spy breaks all those rules? Koreacest
1. Chapter 1

AN/ Quoi? I'm ALIVE? Why yes. Yes I am. I never did anything this summer, due to my falling out of my old fandom, and Pokemon coming out, so...I AM SO SORRY. I can feed you a Hetalia fic instead?  
>DISCLAIMER: HETALIA DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. YONG SOO FOR HELL DOES NOT. DAE JUNG IS MINE AND NEITHERWORLD'S, AND WE HAVE SHARED CUSTODY OF HIM. YOUR REPUBLIC IS CALLING YOU WAS A BOOK BY KIM YOUNG-HA.<p>

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><p>This was the first time he had ever crossed this border, and hopefully, the last. None of the people in this small, select group had ever been to the south, past the 38th parallel before, and none of them, the group of the scared, fearful members of the Party had ever thought for a moment that they would end up there. Years and years of training hadn't prepared them for the feeling of sinking horror that they had when they had started to head to the non-existing 'invasion tunnels' which the government had tried to claim were coal mines when asked upon, and it was no shock that the most of the soldiers and spies in the group felt ten different shades of nervousness upon their bodies. A man known as Dae Jung swallowed slightly, and pushed back short, ragged black bangs that had plastered to the sides of his face and tucked them behind his ears. One of his hands started to play with his braid, the hair, even when tied back, easily hitting at his waist, and it would be longer, if he thought that it wouldn't get in the way of the mission at hand. This mentally made him want to scream, to hit someone, anything to end this silence that seemed to premate the walls of the tunnels, though he kept a blank look on his face, despite his body language saying that he was insane, he shouldn't' have done this, he needed to turn back around this very second and head straight back for his home in Pyongyang. After a moment, the hand stilled and the braid fell back behind him as his eyes hardened when he listened to the soldier in charge, saying the orders as quietly as could possibly be heard; the tunnels here echoed.<p>

It was 2011, and, for the moment, there were no official wars between the two nations sharing the peninsula, other than the fact that neither nation had signed a treaty saying that the war between them, (Fatherland Liberation War in the North, and the Korean War in the South). There was tension that filled almost every aspect of the life that was held there; despite the fact the South was booming and thriving, the North was literally beginning to starve to death.

Though the darkness, the pitch black emptiness of the tunnels, they had made it to the first stop, a way station where they would all be smuggled into the South. The first thing that had hit them was the lights; after spending an immeasurable amount of time in the dark, the light burned at their eyes, the stinging sensation making Dae Jung's brown orbs water as he once more returned to playing with his braid while he listened to the leading officer. He had memorized his mission, to pose as a student of Seoul National University They each had something to do, to blend in, and recall information. They knew that a good spy blended in, became invisible, not like a fly on the wall, but like the child the adults at the dinner party ignore, or the janitor the students at school take for granted, all the while, unaware that someone was listening in on their conversations. And, for a moment, the thought thrilled the young man. He had been one of the best in his class; his accent near-flawless, and he was young enough to do what he needed. This was, in this case, to be enlisted as a student of Seoul National University, where he was to study political sciences.

Upon arrival, Dae Jung suddenly found himself lost in this large city. He didn't have the place memorized, and he felt like a tourist, or, as the thought occurred to him in a menacing manner, like a wolf in sheep's clothes, sticking out too clearly since, in his clean-cut appearance of slacks and a button-down shirt made him look too polite for everyone whom seemed to be in jeans and bright t-shirts. He swallowed and headed to the apartment building, getting his key from the landlord as he waited nervously, beginning to play with his braid as thoughts ran through his head. What if they could tell that his accent was wrong? What if they saw in his eyes he wasn't there to be like everyone else, that he was a spy, a wrong doer? But, after the landlord handed his key to him, and smiled, saying, "Alright, then. You're on the fifth floor, room six-B.", Dae Jung realized that the people of the South were like sheep. Believing anything that the sheepdogs, the government told them, that they were safe and fine, that they were going to be fine.

Dae Jung took the stairs up; it was late, about ten-thirty at night, and he wasn't ready to engage in a meeting with any of the people he'd be knowing for quite some time just yet… He opened the door, letting out a small, small smile as he didn't detect any trace of the North in this apartment he now owned under this name. Just the nice, usual place, with a kitchen and living room, no personality fixtures, but pre-furnished for him, and a bedroom, along with a bathroom. The bedroom had a desk, which he was glad for, with his textbooks that he supposed that he would need for school. A moment of fiddling with the desk later, he pulled out a manila envelope, which had a few things that might be beneficial. His class schedule, and enough money to pay the bills, and rent, along with groceries for at least two months, which was enough time to get a job, in his mind, and identification papers. He knew who he was now, and he sneered at the simplicity of it all.

Im Dae Jung at your service.

On the next day, Dae Jung decided to take a luxury he didn't have. According to his time-table, his first class didn't start until almost eleven, so he had slept in, more than happy to let himself to something like that. It was a simple pleasure, and after a shower and breakfast, he practiced his smile and a few phrases into the mirror. "Hello. I'm Im Dae Jung. I'm a freshman. It's nice to meet you." The words felt so wooden in his mouth, but he took them all with a glee he didn't know he had. The person in the mirror he almost didn't recognize didn't notice as he had braided his hair one last time, running outside. Campus hadn't been too far from the building, and he was more than ready to prepare himself for a long first day. After a moment of running though, he had retreated to the close inner sidewalk; the people were horrid drivers. The light had been green for the people on the walk to go across, and Heaven help you if you were half a second behind. The woman behind the wheel had almost gotten into a head-on collision with him, and had cursed at him when he didn't run away from her fast enough, it seemed. So, with books in hand, he looked at the university with wide eyes. He certainly hadn't been expecting this…

Dae Jung swallowed as he looked around. He knew he didn't need to stop by the main office, and hopefully, he wouldn't need a map as he navigated the halls, trying to find room sixteen-ten. The building seemed ten different shades of confusing; there were too many halls, and too many rooms, and everyone seemed to already know everybody, and he was ignored. That was the point of his job, yes, but he wished he was like some of the other freshmen, for a fleeting moment. What he wouldn't give to be able to grab somebody by the arm and ask for help to his first class. But, through a stroke of luck, or just good listening, he had heard someone ask for help, and he followed them, diving into the room and taking a seat.

The Korean class came first, much to his confusion. Dae Jung was next to positive that most, if not all of the students, spoke it with perfect fluency, though he certainly didn't understand the slang most used. (What on earth was Facebook, anyways?) Having swiped a paper that had been on the floor, he began to read that, taking mental notes for himself as he studied the headlines. There seemed to be nothing he could possibly report back to the homeland. Surely they knew most, if not all of this already? He honestly doubted that they wanted to know a headline about how the South was recovering from the flood; anyone who watched the news in either side of the border knew that already, and that was on the first page. The further back he went, the less and less sense these articles seemed to make, until the spy got to the point where he wanted to claw the eyes out of his head.

"Annyeonghaseyo, da ze!" A student next to him chirped, which made the spy almost jump, though he was too well trained to do something like that, of course. But, for a moment, Dae Jung couldn't help but stare at the male who had sat next to him.. They were near-perfect copies, like clones…Or twins. It was the same face, with the same brown eyes, though the person across from him seemed to have them somehow be sparkling in glee compared to Dae Jung's blank, almost empty gaze. Their hair was the same shade of black, though the other's was cropped short, just going a little past his chin, and it seemed to have a problem laying flat; he had a long, long curl that stood up, and seemed to have…Was that a face in it? It was similar to the spy's own, he noted, which only made the thing seem more and more eerie. Dae Jung swallowed as he replied, pulling the braid around onto his shoulder and he began to play with it, "A-Annyeonghaseyo..."

"It's really nice to meet you," The person chirped out as he kicked his feet, like he had no reason to stay still, even for a moment, since, when the feet stopped their movement, he began to tap a pencil. Dae Jung felt like there was a layer of him being peeled back, like an onion, as the man studied him, grinning as the pencil stopped moving. The spy took note of what the man was dressed in-bright, skintight purple jeans, and some band shirt that was half hidden by a highlighter pink sweater, which the sleeves when far, far past this student's hands, covering them. It pushed casual a bit too far, and it was a direct contrast to what the man from the North was wearing-work pants and another button up shirt in muted colors. The color explosion seemed to be the direct contrast, and it drew unwanted attention to him, simply from being near the other man.

He swallowed as his hands continued to fiddle with the braid, undoing the lower part and re-braiding it as he asked softly, nervously, still afraid he'd slip up and say the wrong thing, "Wh-who're you…?"

The man in the explosive and eye-vomiting colors blinked as he began to fiddle with his sleeves, picking at the slowly beginning to fray edges of them, pulling one long string out. He seemed confused by the question, but he beamed nonetheless and said, "Right! I'm Im Yong Soo! I'm an art student here, and a native to Seoul! Who the heck are you?"

The few words that this man, Yong Soo, had spouted out gave Dae Jung plenty of information on him, some quick and easy facts that would make it easier to get in his head. Yong Soo was about his age, possibly, if not most likely, a year or two younger, and the maturity levels between them would be glaringly obvious, if anyone looked at them, from their clothing to their behavior. And the spy knew he shouldn't judge but…if you're a male art student…You're either gay, or you're getting laid by every other girl in your class just about every night.

"Uhm…I-I'm Im Dae Jung…I'm from Daegang-ri..." His hands went and undid the entire braid as he hoped he had gotten the city close to the parallel correct, since that was supposed to cover any possible hits of an accent up, "I'm studying political sciences…"

"Poli-sci?" Yong Soo asked as he wrinkled his nose, laughing a bit, "Ew. That's really crusty, da ze!" He fluffed Dae Jung's hair, ignoring the spy's unhappy squeak; Dae Jung had never liked anybody touching his hair, and that just made Yong Soo's eyes glittered as he tackled Dae Jung out of chair, all but screaming, "GLOMP ATTACK!"

"Wh-what?" Dae Jung demanded as he squirmed and elbowed Yong Soo in the stomach, eyes widening in faux-terror as he reacted with a cold calmness that made him all but pin the other down. He hadn't liked the space invasion in the slightest. Dae Jung released Yong Soo, who laughed as Dae Jung flushed a bit; face getting an unfamiliar warm in it as it turned delicate shade of red.

"I glomped you, da ze," Yong Soo explained as he sat back in his chair, patting Dae Jung's head as he began to kick his feet once more, "I glomp cute people." Thankfully, he was quiet for a moment, before he turned back around. "Any ideas on when the professor shows up? I'm _bored_!"

His head shook as he began to try and re-read the paper, tuning out the art student as he bit his lip, trying to not blush again. Cute…? That began to distract him as he looked up when the teacher walked in, beginning the lecture in a dull voice. None of the students paid any attention to the man while Dae Jung planned several different ways to maim the person next to him; all Yong Soo did all block was send obnoxious notes to him, saying things like 'Hey, cutie, we need to hang out.', or, 'What's your home like?'. He gave up trying to learn, just trying to avoid the man annoying him.

Thankfully, his classes, with the exception of the awkward first Korean class had passed by in a complete blur to Dae Jung, and most of the other freshmen. The spy had blended in far too easily, like how things such as potted plants, or people like janitors did; everyone assuming they were just a part of the background that nobody needed to notice. Nobody looked twice at them, and Dae Jung had the intent to be the exact same way. He wasn't going to stick out. Just blend in, so every the people who called him friend would forget all about him, be surprised when he had seemingly vanished from 'nowhere'. So, it completely ruined the sense of invisibility when he got 'glomped' once more by the same annoying color vomiting person from his first class of the morning, who had only shrieked at the loudest possible volume, at the top of his lungs, _"HEY, CUTIE!"_

Dae Jung felt a headache coming on as he mentally thought "_Lovely way to blow cover."_

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><p>AN You know, reviews make me want to type more... And, unlike my other fics, I have a plot for this one -le gasp-


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wan nan desu ka? I'm updating so soon? IT'S A MIRACLEEEE. My dad's laptop is out of commission, so when I'm updating, I only have a limited amount of time on it...

Disclaimer: Do you see Dae Jung? This cute guy? –holds him up- I only have weekend custody of him. I don't have anything else belonging to me. Don't sure me, because I'm one of the few people who can write South Korea without making him a total idiot. D:

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><p>The spy had thankfully managed to escape the teen's grasp. Yong Soo hadn't seemed happy, as he watched Dae Jung flail and run off, but, to be frank, the spy didn't care less. He hadn't seen the other, which made him content; the other wasn't a complete stalker… After a week, the apartment he was living in began to feel like a home; he now knew that, unless he wanted it, Dae Jung's house couldn't-wouldn't-change. His place- home now, was slowly beginning to gain a personality, like Dae Jung himself was. There were a few posters scattered on walls, and he had put up a map of South Korea in his bedroom, marking places where he knew there were spies. It was a joke; though it'd be lost on anyone other than him…<p>

Dae Jung unceremoniously dropped his bag with his school things in it on the carpeted floor. He had slipped his shoes off at the entrance, and, when his stomach growled in hunger, like it always seemed to, he went to his fridge. There was a small amount of pain; he didn't each as much as most people should eat. Dae Jung grinned as he pulled out some kimchi, and last night's takeout, along with some chopsticks and a spoon, and sat at his table, shoving the food into his face without a second thought.

It took a moment, but Dae Jung's food vanished, in under fifteen minutes, when he checked his clock. He leaned back in his chair happily as he propped his feet up on it, before he felt a small pain in his abdomen; his body was protesting having crammed so much into him, when he wasn't used to eating so much to start with. He pulled away and sat down, letting out a small moan. A half of a nanosecond later, and Dae Jung was face-first in front of his toilet, retching out everything he had just eaten. A quick moment of regret came as he vomited once more, unable to help but think about how much of a _waste_ it was, to eat all the food, and then regurgitate it all back up again. The spy rubbed his stomach in reluctance, but he felt so much better now…At least until he remembered that he was covered in barely-digested food.

Dae Jung hid in his shower for about a half-hour, just trying to get clean, and get his vomit out of his hair. Eating so much, he now knew, was a bad thing, indeed.

The next day he spent in the classroom he shared with the human peacock, Dae Jung vaguely felt a migraine coming on as he rubbed his temples reluctantly. His professor, for whatever reason, had felt it prudent for them to write a two-page reflective piece…On a childhood memory. Dae Jung's weaknesses did not lie in college composition, and he had no memories that he could properly share with most, if not all the students in this classroom…And he had the misfortune to have to deal with the man who had tormented him on the first day, Im Yong Soo.

On this lovely almost-afternoon, the man hadn't stopped in his feeble attempts to flirt with him. And once more, he had a needlessly bright outfit on; highlighter lemon-lime green jeans, and a neon orange shirt, in that same sweater from yesterday. Dae Jung honestly felt that somebody should tell him it didn't match, but he didn't want to be the one to have to do it; he sometimes noticed that the other could be just a huge child, and he didn't want to be on the other's radar anymore than he already was.

"So, Dj, I was thinking-" Yong Soo began as it finally clicked on for Dae Jung. What had he said? The spy's face darkened as he clenched his pencil a bit tighter, knuckles going white as he glared at the man across his , their, really, table.

"You did _not_ just call me Dj." He hissed out darkly as he vaguely wondered what it would be like to stab someone in the neck with a dull number two pencil that had teeth marks around the eraser; Dae Jung was rather fond of chewing on it while thinking."Actually, I did, _Dj_," He replied with a small bit of a snarky tone, smirking a bit, "It's shorthand, since I'm not feeling like saying your whole name." After a moment, though, he smiled once more and said, "That, and it's a cute nickname for a cute guy like you."

Dae Jung's face resembled that of a fire hydrant as one of his hands went to fondling his braid. He focused on scribbling down something he had made up ten minutes ago; it was better than thinking about the newest come-on Yong Soo had this time. His pencil spelled out the words, the characters forming easily enough:

_At the age of seven, my biggest priority was making sure I got home early; if I did, I usually had some time to play in the fish pond at my mother's before I had to start my schoolwork…_

After a while, Dae Jung never noticed the weeks slowly begin to blend; the work from school, and avoiding Yong Soo, while still continuing his spying seemed to eat up most, if not all of the hours in his days. But, soon after they finished the papers, which Dae Jung hadn't exactly scored well on, it came easy to him; Yong Soo just seemed to take a background notice to him, just a constant person, whom he had started to take for granted now…Dae Jung wasn't sure if this was a good thing, but he knew for a fact now, that he had become just like every other air-headed freshman at the university.

Pyongyang, the capital, his old home, seemed to be a distant memory to Dae Jung now. Despite him having only been in Seoul for about a month, it all seemed to blur into one thing, which he was all too willing to block out. Even on that old movie set they had built to model Seoul; it paled in comparison to the actual city itself. The sky was completely different; after all, the movie set was purely fluorescent lighting, while Seoul was all sunshine, at least when it was light out. The people, too…He remembered them so well. How he had never been sure if they were from the North, or the South, since kidnapping was alive and well these days, still. The smiles…They had always held just a tinge of sadness, but it was the eyes Dae Jung remembered the best; the eyes gave away that the people had completely surrendered.

But, since he was young, in Dae Jung's mind, he was immortal. The stories about how the spies messed up, and got caught? He fully believed that it would never, ever happen to him. That was what he thought while he wandered the streets of Seoul, the unfamiliar buildings, and the people who ran into him making it all seem far too hostile, far too much like enemy territory, and, for a moment, Dae Jung reverted back.

The skyscrapers in the part of town he was in loomed down omninously on Dae Jung. It was like being repressed, being watched…He swallowed and looked around, trying to hide from them for a brief, irrational moment. The buildings weren't real people; he noticed it when he watched the dark gray clouds come in, and begin to pour rain down, like they were crying. His teeth dug harshly into his lower lip as Dae Jung's eyes scanned for something, anything, to help him figure out his location. He had no idea as to where he possibly was; he didn't know the city as well as he wished he did… the first occurrence to his mind was to maybe buy a map, but he rejected it instantly. The next thought was that maybe he should call Yong Soo; it was the only other student whose number he had in his phone, much to his reluctance.

With a shake of his head, Dae Jung rejected that thought instantly. He couldn't-wouldn't-let the other see him in need. That would be very, very bad. Eventually, however, the only thing he could feel was his aching and wet feet, as he splashed in puddle and puddle and puddle. He knew his shoes were going to be completely soaked, but Dae Jung stopped after a moment, his face growing a bright red as he looked at a set of buildings in slowly growing shame and horror.

The spy seemed to have walked straight into the _lovely_ red light district. He didn't even know this place had existed, but… Dae Jung's hands began to play with his hair as a canine dug into his lower lip. Suddenly, he regretted not calling someone earlier; now he was the victim of plenty leers and unwanted looks. Dae Jung didn't want to, didn't dare to, ask for help, knowing it'd end up bad for him.

Unfortunately for him, a drunk, overweight man with huge, meaty hands grabbed him over by the braid, more-or-less feeling him up as he slurred out drunkenly to Dae Jung, "Heeeey, cutie~ What's a cute little girl like yourself doin' out here? This doesn't seem like your kinda place…" He trailed off suggestively.

The younger's face flushed in shame as he mumbled out some answer that he didn't care about as he struggled and fought for some sort of escape, until he froze. The man holding him had gotten a bit too low for his liking, but the spy felt his blood chill as the other hissed in his ear, "How much?"Dae Jung instantly began to flail a bit, trying to pull away, biting at the bigger's hands, jabbing his nail into the base of the man's thumbnail, kicking him right below the knee, but nothing helping as he screeched, "Let me go!"

The clothes were removed from the spy quickly enough, and he was pushed against the wall. Dae Jung closed his eyes, waiting for the pain that would come with the forced invasion. He blinked his eyes open when he didn't get it; he heard something odd…A grunt and a "Hey, assmunch! He said let go of him!"

He curled as he watched the scene happen, before a far too familiar human peacock spun around, holding a hand out and smiling at him.

"Geez, Dj. I didn't think you'd get lost near a whorehouse. Need a ride?"

He didn't know what he was doing, but he knew that, a second later, he was hugging Yong Soo tightly, sobbing his eyes out. Dae Jung didn't want to think about what would have happened to him if the other hadn't come around, and he was internally delighted when Yong Soo didn't say anything else, just hugging him back and half-rocking him, not being a jerk, or teasing. It felt so nice…

Dae Jung wasn't sure how he got his clothes back on, or how they got back to his apartment, but end up there he did, and he ran for the shower, trying to get the feelings off of him. About an hour of showering, and he came out, in nice, warm clothing, and he blinked, still not expecting Yong Soo to be there.

"Hey, Dj…Are you okay?" He asked as he watched the other in worry, biting his lip, any joking or teasing completely gone as he looked more afraid for the other than anything else at that moment in time.

Dae Jung just smiled, his face not used to moving like that, but…He had warm fuzzies inside, for some odd reason, and didn't want to question it as he just responded in an oddly plastic way, "Oh, of course I'm okay. Thank you for saving me. Are you hungry?"

He knew he'd be blocking this memory out. Dae Jung's mind was good at that.

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><p>AN: IhopeNeitherworlddoesn'. So here's chapter two! I've never left the eastern seaboard of the US, so please don't hate on me for utterly butchering Seoul, to anyone who's ever been there!<p>

Review, please! I'd rather have someone say 'lol this is SO funny!' instead of just a favorite or a story alert!

Andifanybodywantstorpwithme,PMmeandI'llgetbacktoyouASAP,okay?


	3. Chapter 3

AN: God dammit, fanfiction...Sorry this took so long! Writer's block and AP classes do that to you!

DISCLAIMER: DO YOU SEE SOUTH KOREA IN THE ANIME? WHEN THAT HAPPENS, I OWN HETALIA.

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>Dae Jung was always glad he was good at blocking out and repressing memories that he didn't want. It hadn't taken much; after all, he had done his best to block out a lot of things, and what were a few more mental stitches, anyways?The skill came with some ease, and he passed out on the bed within five minutes of just lying there, staring at the ceiling. However, in the morning, the only thing that was out-of-place with what he was trying to block out, was Yong Soo still in Dae Jung's apartment, furiously cleaning it up.<p><p>

"Annyeonghaseyo, Dae Jung!" Yong Soo greeted with the smallest bit of a laugh, smiling a bit too brightly, and hugging the more-than-worn out spy.

Dae Jung winced as he felt his eyes widening. A moment of wiggling around, and a soft, "Ne, annyeonghaseyo, Yong Soo,"he stopped fighting and glaring altogether; it felt so nice to just be held, and he closed his eyes, a small bit of minute, tired shaking coming from Dae Jung's body.

"You look tired," Yong Soo commented as he squeezed Dae Jung protectively, running a hand through as much of the spy's hair as he could; it was more than tangled, and it looked like Dae Jung was trying to get a set of dreadlocks. "How're you feeling?" For the moment, he just felt glad that Dae Jung seemed more-or-less fine; last night his 'friend' had a bit too hollow, a bit too empty of a look in his eye that seemed potentially self-harmful.

""Exhausted," Dae Jung commented as he grumbled, "There's class today, right?" He took a look at the food Yong Soo had made, his wrung-out mind processing the rice and kimchi, but not much else. He ate with a dull, bored look on his face, before he began to play with his hair, trying to get the snarls and tangles out of it. "And can I have my brush, please?"

"We do," Yong Soo nodded as he handed Dae Jung his hairbrush, "But, it's only eight-thirty or so, and I still need to go home and take a shower and whatnot, and get a hold of one of my friends who's in my sociology class to apologize for not being there for the project yesterday…."

"Or you could leave right away," Dae Jung grumbled as he began to yank at his hair, pulling one difficult knot out as he yelped, before saying, "Because, you know, you should get going."

"I can text him an apology," Yong Soo waved his hand a bit, and commented, "Besides, I'm on one of the campus dorms, so there's not point in leaving, since it's so damn early anyways." He seemed to more-or-less miss Dae Jung's not quite subtle way to say 'get the hell out of my apartment.' "And you still look really messed up from last night, anyways."

The brush continued to yank through the spy's hair, and the thought of getting conditioner ran through his mind briefly as he undid another snarl, murmuring out, "What do you mean? I'm _fine_, Yong Soo."

Yong Soo frowned and walked over to Dae Jung, saying calmly, "Dae Jung, you were almost—" He cut himself off as the other slammed the hairbrush into his chest, grumbling out a "Shut up, stupid peacock." Dae Jung bit his lip and took the brush back when Yong Soo laughed and gave it back to him.

His hands began to brush Dae Jung's hair while the spy tried to pull the brush out. Gentle hands began to patiently untangle a snarl in the man's hair as he chuckled, "Wait, now. I'm a peacock? I'm sure I'm not; I'm rather human, you see." He undid another snarl, smiling a bit weakly as he watched Dae Jung blush and cross his arms.

The spy did hit best to not fall into the calming lull of the brush going through his hair. "Ju-just shut up," Dae Jung huffed unhappily and blew a bit of his bangs out of his face, "You just dress like one, is all…"

The man brushing his hair laughed softly as he finished brushing Dae Jung's hair and began to watch the spy braid it in silence. Dae Jung did have a lot of hair, Yong Soo noted as Dae Jung bit his lip, moving his arms a bit, and it certainly made a lot of sense, watching, as to why it was in a braid

Dae Jung flipped the partly done braid over his left shoulder, continuing to braid the black hair as he snapped unhappily, "Oh, shut up! You're always in such bright colors; you look like a peacock or something!"

Yong Soo just laughed a bit more, grinning as he pulled Dae Jung's back to his chest, beginning to finish the braid as he explained in a softer voice, "It's an experiment for my sociology class; we're trying to figure out how people will interact to people who aren't in the norm." He then died Dae Jung's braid off, watching the man blush as he mumbled, "It's nine thirty; I should take you home then…"

"Aww, thank you, but I can get back on my own time." Yong Soo cooed as he walked over to get his shoes, before Dae Jung scooped them up, holding them away from Yong Soo.

"I insist," Dae Jung grumbled unhappily, his eyes meeting Yong Soo's.. "You helped me out, so I'm helping you out. It's not because I like you or anything like that."

Yong Soo laughed and tried to take his shoes, frowning a bit when Dae Jung kept jerking them away from him, "Really, Dae Jung; I can get back to my dorm by myself…"

"Stop being such an asshole," Dae Jung snapped, before he bit his lip and looked down, "Just…Let me help you, okay?"

Yong Soo looked like he was considering it for a moment, before he leaned in close to Dae Jung's face, lips almost touching as Dae Jung flushed, before Yong Soo swiped the shoes back and laughed. "Okay then, but only if I can take you on a date~!"

Yong Soo had to be joking, Dae Jung decided as he grew more and more horrified. Yong Soo was too much of a brainless bottom-feeding peacock to actually mean it, right? The spy slipped his shoes on as Yong Soo hugged him tightly, both of them heading out the door. "Besides," Yong Soo commented and shrugged a bit, smiling happily, "You said that you're new to Seoul, and, in order to prevent what happened last night, I'm giving you a tour around the city, okay?"

Dae Jung blushed even more for a moment as he nodded, "Ye-yeah, that'd be nice…" So Yong Soo hadn't meant it the way Dae Jung had thought…He felt the blush fade as he followed Yong Soo. Not as dating… as friends. Right, Dae Jung could handle that…Hopefully.

While he thought for the brief moments, he caught just the end of Yong Soo's statement: "…Weekend good?" Dae Jung blinked and shook his head, looking at Yong Soo with a blink and frown, "I'm sorry, what did you just say? I spaced out for a moment there…"

Yong Soo looked worried for a moment, pulling Dae Jung into another tight, protective hug, before he pulled away and grinned. "Space cadet; now, as I said: it'd probably be better for both of us to have it on a weekend; I'm pretty sure we both have classes until the weekend. Does that sound like a plan to you?"

Dae Jung nodded as he murmured awkwardly, "That sounds fine…" He followed Yong Soo, who walked onto a sidewalk on campus and headed to what seemed to be a small townhouse, and Yong Soo opened the door to what appeared to be a trashed house, much to Dae Jung's horror.

Dae Jung just knew that the place hadn't been clean since Yong Soo had moved it. Maybe it was the various art supplies thrown all over the couch, or the fact that, in the kitchen, there was food stains everywhere. He could definitely smell kimchi and vodka, which made Dae Jung a bit worried; was Yong Soo, or his roommate, an alcoholic? He continued to look around, not seeing much of a floor; everything was covered up by various things; a couple of textbooks, someone's papers, clothing that could belong to a child or, at one point, some take out boxes.

"How do you live in here?" Dae Jung covered his nose as he watched Yong Soo grab some clothes off the floor, which Dae Jung was next to certain wasn't sanitary in the slightest. It seemed that today's ensemble a bright pink sweater that Dae Jung was certain that Yong Soo had worn yesterday, a highlighter yellow shirt that had various stains on the back, and the purple skinny jeans that Yong Soo seemed to favor…and he had worn more-or-less all week.

"Practice," The South Korean teen explained. He laughed and headed to the bathroom, changing and brushing his teeth quickly. "My dorm mate, who's also my soc partner and I are cleaning it up after classes let out tomorrow. Speaking of….RAIVIS, I'M BA~ACK!" He called in a loud, sing-song like voice, half-belting it.

Dae Jung jumped at the sudden change in volume, before he blinked in confusion. Raivis…That wasn't a Korean name; the language didn't have a v sound in it, and it just altogether sounded awkward. It sounded even more awkward due to Yong Soo's accent; it sounded like the human peacock had called 'Lie-bees' out.

The head of a much, much too small person picked out. The kid, Dae Jung was assuming it was a kid, looked to be about from eleven to thirteen, at maximum, and he called something in a language Dae Jung didn't recognize, but was going to guess was English. He bit his lip when he heard Yong Soo reply in the same language as he came out of the bathroom, hugging the boy whom Dae Jung assumed to be, Raivis, tightly and laughing.

"Dae Jung, this is my soc partner, and dorm mate, Raivis Galante," Yong Soo introduced Dae Jung, before turning to the small teen and saying, "Raivis, this is my buddy Im Dae Jung He's in my Korean class, and we're going out on a date this weekend!"

Dae Jung looked ten shades of murderous and embarrassed, but he couldn't get anything else out, spluttering and covering his face in shock as he prayed that Yong Soo would suddenly combust. Raivis looked like that, if he had been drinking anything, he would have spit it right out as he looked at Yong Soo, speaking in English due to the shock, "_Wh-what?_"

"_We're going on a date, Raivis-ssi,_" Yong Soo explained in kind, grinning a bit happily. He turned to Dae Jung, starting to explain, "Raivis isn't from Seoul either, if you couldn't tell."

Dae Jung looked at Raivis, who shook and hid a bit behind Yong Soo, starting to explain, "I-I'm fro-from, Riga…La-Latvia. I-it's a Baltic nation…" He swallowed and shook as Dae Jung only scowled at him.

"Where's that?" Dae Jung asked bluntly, not one for pleasantries, especially when it came to someone he felt was a pest.

"I-it's n-next t-to Ru-Russia," The way Raivis stuttered over thetold Dae Jung a multitude of things. First, that Korean wasn't his native language, but looking at him made it more than obvious. The second thing it spelt out was that Raivis was a mix of drunk and frightened. It annoyed the spy, and it gave him a jolt of jealous to watch Yong Soo giggle and hug Raivis tightly, calling him cute.

Dae Jung only nodded and grumbled something as Yong Soo pulled both of them out of the messy dorm. They all, thankfully, had the supplies they needed, though it frightened Dae Jung to watch Yong Soo and Raivis pick up what they needed from the floor with a detached professionalism about it.. He watched the conversation Yong Soo and Raivis carried, biting his lip a bit awkwardly; every time that Yong Soo would smile at Raivis, or hug him or something like that, it made Dae Jung get just a bit more and more jealous, until he started to gleefully imagine Raivis's head on a platter.

Yong Soo waved his friend off happily and blissfully, spinning around to Dae Jung. "Do you have a cell phone, yes or no?"

Dae Jung frowned at the awkwardness of the question, shaking his head. "I never really needed one; why do you ask?" He blinked and watched Yong Soo's jaw drop as he commented with a frown, "I'm so getting you one; in this day and age, you need one to survive! You have a computer, right? It'd be really sad if you didn't…"

"Of course I 've got one; I needed one for some of my classes,"He said this calmly, wondering what Yong Soo must be imagining when he had said that; as a person in North Korea…nobody he knew had a cell phone, unless they had been an important government worker; and none of his friends had ever really needed one.

"Please tell me you have a social networking page," Yong Soo spun his arms around, half-flailing as he huffed, "Anything. I'll even accept a Facebook, or a Twitter, or a Google+, or-I can't believe I'm saying this-hell, even a MySpace!"

The lexicon that the other teen was using only confused Dae Jung as he shook his head quickly, "No…I don't…"

"…You poor unfortunate soul," Yong Soo's eyes widened comically as he decided, "The next time you visit me, a proper visit, I'm setting one up for you, okay? Maybe after our date, or something like that…"

"Do-don't say it so casually!" Dae Jung whined as he pulled his bag up when he sat down, pulling the work and textbook out instead of blushing, before he began to play with his braid; it was the first time his nervous habit had started this morning. "So, what did you write about for the memoir study we had to do?" The spy inquired to change the subject from the supposed childhood misfortune, and their upcoming date of sorts.

Yong Soo bit his lip as he dug into his bag, pulling out a crumpled paper which he quickly straightened out, looking over at the half-finished sloppy mix of Korean and Chinese characters; most of it was notes on the memoir they had spent the last class discussing, and not much of an essay had taken place on the paper. "Uhm…I think it's about the flashback style comparison versus the first person narrative of the writer in the present tense…Spent about ten minutes on it."

Dae Jung felt his eye twitch as he looked down at this own, clean paper, which he felt like he had spent forever-a whole hour and a half-on, and said, "I compared the poetic literature in the piece to some of the other works we've already discussed in class…And I really don't think you're going to be able to turn that one in…"

The two men looked at each other awkwardly as Yong Soo held up his hands, placing one on the other and wiggled his thumbs. To answer Dae Jung's confused look, he said, "Awkward turtle." They both laughed awkwardly, and Yong Soo said, "See, this is the difference between us."

The class, and indeed, the rest of the week, went by far too quickly for Dae Jung's tastes;for the first time since he had known him, Dae Jung was honestly enjoying spending time with Yong Soo. And, much to Dae Jung's happiness, he had helped Yong Soo clean his dorm out, and, for whatever reason, Yong Soo had made him a Facebook…

Alas, the weekend came, at last, and Dae Jung, a bit before eleven o' clock, was debating on letting Yong Soo into his apartment. He could fake sick, here, and now, and get out of this date or sorts, but…He couldn't do that. That was just wrong. Dae Jung opened the door, and blinked a bit; Yong Soo wasn't dressed in the bright colors Dae Jung was used to seeing him in; for once, it was just jeans and a t-shirt.

"Annyeonghaseyo," Yong Soo greeted as Dae Jung opened the door, and handed him a wrapped up box, grinning a bit, "Got you a present."

Dae Jung blinkedand replied, "Ne, annyeonghaseyo, Yong Soo," The spy let the man walk in as soon as his shoes were off, and Dae Jung teased softly, "You got me a box? Whatever would I do without my new box friend?"

"I put the present in the box, silly," Yong Soo grinned playfully while Dae Jung braided his hair. After a moment, the spy affectionately rolled his eyes and commented, "I would've never guessed."Dae Jung flipped his now-tied-off braid behind his back as he slowly opened the box, before he blinked, "Huh… A phone…Thank you, I guess…?"

You're most certainly welcome," Yong Soo grinned and pulled Dae Jung into a tight hug, "I pulled some lovely strings and got you a nice phone so now you can get guys' numbers and stuff."

The oddity of the statement, in two ways, set Dae Jung's senses. Pulling some strings? What had that meant…? He looked at Yong Soo, frowning a bit for a moment, but he played it off with a simple comment of, "Guys? I'm pretty sure I like _girls_."

Yong Soo floundered for a moment, before he said, "Dae Jung! Dude! You've got the longest hair I've ever seen! You blush when you get hugs! You're so friggin' effeminate that everyone, including me, first thought you were a chick! You _have_ to be gay!"

"Why thank you, Yong Soo," Dae Jung put on a serious poker face as he commented on his friend's awkward statement, " For deciding my sexuality for m. You should assume that people are asexual, unless they're after you."

The teen laughed, but not without a hint of awkwardness, as he swiped Dae Jung's phone. Yong Soo's hands flew over the buttons with a familiar rapidness as he didn't even bother to look at Dae Jung. "You sound like Raivis when you say that…" After that, though, he quickly explained to Dae Jung how the phone worked.

Dae Jung's face flushed a bit at the mention of Raivis, and he grumbled unhappily, "Whatever. Let's just go and do this, okay?" Dae Jung's face blushed a bit more, and he let Yong Soo take his hand in his own. Dae Jung began to listen to Yong Soo, only picking out bits and pieces of the conversation.

"And over here's that time at the party that we all got drunk and vomited…" Yong Soo rambled contentedly while Dae Jung just nodded every now and agai, watching Yong Soo, who flailed with happy emotions, "…and over here we had a flash mob two years ago…"

Yong Soo eventually sobered up and actually began to tour Dae Jung around Seoul. They grabbed some takeout food and sat at a picnic table at the park, beginning to eat. Dae Jung kept spluttering out his food; Yong Soo was telling more than too many jokes, and right now he was on the time he had met an American who had thought that most of the Asian countries were just places in China.

You have _got_ to be shitting me," Dae Jung snorted as some kimchi fell out of his mouth, wiping his face, "Ho-how on earth?" He took the napkin Yong Soo offered and wiped his face off.

"Well, this one time at band camp-,." Yong Soo began as he watched Dae Jung laugh once more and face palm. They both set the take out to the side as they continued to laugh happily.

"Oh god," Dae Jung snorted, "Just stop, before I lose my lungs." For a brief moment, he managed to stop laughing, before a hiccup escaped out of him. Dae Jung swore, glaring at Yong Soo, who only squealed at the spy.

Dae Jung, can you stop being so cute?" Yong Soo asked as he leaned over and hugged Dae Jung. Yong Soo offered a soda, which they had grabbed to drink after the food, "And I think you need the liquid. Take a deep breath down to your stomach, okay?"

Dae Jung nodded thankfully and quickly downed the soda. The spy's , breathing slowly started to calm down. "Th-thanks...So, where are we heading now?"

"I was thinking downtown," Yong Soo explained calmly. They both began to throw the trash away as Yong Soo commented, "There are some good places to look around; I found this nice café we could eat at around dinnertime…"

Dae Jung nodded as Yong Soo once more began to show him around Seoul. The spy had honestly never expected this much of a tour, but, by the end of the day, he had certainly enjoyed himself. And, come evening, Yong Soo had, true to his word, taken Dae Jung to the café, where they had eaten something that was oddly delicious.

Once they made it back to Dae Jung's apartment, Yong Soo grinned and leaned in, stealing a quick kiss from the spy as he explained, "I took you out on a date, and dinner. So I get a free kiss." Dae Jung's eyes closed as his face got bright red as his hand connected with Yong Soo's face in a violent slap. "YOU'RE SUCH AN ASSWIPE!" He screeched and slammed the door in Yong Soo's face.

Yong Soo laughed as he headed back to his dorm. Dae Jung was so cute when he was mad, the college student decided. Oh, how he was _so _going to somehow go out with him…Somehow.

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>AN: You like em, I like em. And reviews save lives. And message me to rp! 8D


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hello, everybody! ...-listens- What? No replies? Okay! Sorry this update took so long; school and crap, and then I just got back from Disney World. I figured a crap update is better than none, so I hope nobody kills me, and I promise to get a new one. Now, ff's doing some weird crap for formatting, so if it's messed up, please PM me and let me know, okay?

DISCLAIMER: KATZUNITED-MEOW- does not own Hetalia, and does not own Im Yong Soo and Raivis Galante, and only has weekend custody of Im Dae Jung. Kat is in no way associated with the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, nor the Republic of Korea. Now, enjoy!

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><p>Weeks went by. Dae Jung did his absolute best to keep talking to Yong Soo to a minimum; the kiss was still troubling him. What did he mean by it? Was it some soft of implication, or was it for something else? Dae Jung wasn't sure in the slightest, and the way that Yong Soo seemed to be half-avoiding him didn't help matters.<p>

Yong Soo had slowly become more subdued, Dae Jung had taken notice. The bright colors Dae Jung had come to associate with Yong Soo were more-or-less gone; he only wore them on occasion. In fact, most of Yong Soo's attention had been focused on something in his sketchbook, and Dae Jung's curiosity was getting the better of him. The few times they had communicated, Dae Jung had swiped Yong Soo's sketchbook to take a look, but Yong Soo always managed to get it back and slap the canvas-covered hard book in Dae Jung's face.

Life went on, though, and the communication began to get a bit easier between them. The kiss seemed to be all but forgotten as November rolled around, and Dae Jung's stay in Seoul went from days, to weeks, to months. Sometime around mid-to-late-September, though, Dae Jung's spy nature began to become a second nature that he rarely ever thought about anymore. It was far too easy to pretend to be a South Korea; everyone believed it, and there had been no awkward questions. It was just a matter of being consistent.  
>_<p>

Never again, Dae Jung mentally decided as he vomited into a toilet, never again will I go to a party. Waking up in a stranger's tub with a lampshade on my head and a half-naked _Im Yong Soo _is _not _how I'm spending my Sunday mornings.

Yong Soo had been pushed off of Dae Jung rather violently as the spy continued to vomit while he made another hangover-filled pledge. _Never again will I drink more than a single shot of whiskey or vodka while partying. I'd rather be a coward than have a hangover at someone's house._

Dae Jung looked in the mirror for a brief moment, nausea fading away long enough to wash his face off. Oh, he was so glad that his hair was still out of the way and that there were no random penises on him. He winced and went back to the toilet, vomiting once more as he looked at barely-digested kimchi, and quite a lot of alcohol.

Dae Jung's braid was yanked on rather harshly, and the spy winced. It wasn't helping his headache at all. He took one look over at Yong Soo, who waved a bit. Dae Jung groaned and pulled his hair back; he didn't want to deal with Yong Soo right now, who said something about Advil and a walk of shame.

Dae Jung didn't pay any notice until Yong Soo came back. The art student pressed a glass of water into Dae Jung's hand, and two pills into the other. Dae Jung smiled weakly for a moment, taking both as he closed his eyes for a moment. "May I take a shower?"

Yong Soo smiled and nodded, taking the lampshade back as he left the room, discussing something with somebody outside. Dae Jung didn't pay attention. He turned the light off and the shower on. Covering his ears, and shutting out most of the outside helped made him feel human again.

While Dae Jung felt the water rush over him, he tried to piece together what had happened last night. Right… He showed up at someone's house…Why couldn't he remember that? There was drinking, and at one point, people were throwing money… The party was at Yong Soo's—Oh God, _no._

Dae Jung stepped out of the shower with a groan. As Dae Jung began to dry off, he prayed that Yong Soo would let Dae Jung keep the majority of his dignity, but somehow, Dae Jung doubted it; Yong Soo couldn't-wouldn't-pass a joke like this up. But it wore on, and Dae Jung ventured out in his clothes once more, looking for something to eat. Maybe they'd be nice and give him some food—oh, nope. They were laughing right now.

Dae Jung shot both of the room-mates dirty looks. Mentally blocking things out, he did manage to hear Yong Soo's catcall, and a: "Hey, sexy, how much?"

Yong Soo's tone gave away that he was joking, and honestly concerned about Dae Jung, but the spy chose to not hear that part. Dae Jung flushed and ran out the door, slamming it behind him. Stupid, idiotic, Yong Soo, Dae Jung thought, upset and shaking, he was such an _asshole_!

Brown eyes watered as Dae Jung opened his apartment door. He closed them as he walked to the kitchen, feeling a staggering sense of homesickness wash right over him. Dae Jung sat down, unsure of what it was for; Seoul was not his home, just a temporary living space, and Pyongyang…He didn't want to go back there, if he could help it. He swallowed and grabbed a box of the night before take-out and nuked it in the microwave; Dae Jung didn't want to try and cook at that moment in time.  
>_<p>

The next day had been increasingly awkward for Dae Jung. He and Yong Soo had been finally starting to make up, but now they were back at square one. Both males avoided each other in class, and Dae Jung was next-to-positive it had nothing to do with the exam they were taking.

Did the teacher actually teach this to them? Dae Jung wondered as he worked on the essay. He doubted it; how could he compare two literary works that they hadn't read in class, and he was certain that wasn't homework?

Dae Jung reluctantly turned in his exam; he knew for a fact he had bombed it. Grabbing the rest of his supplies, he left the classroom, having been one of the last students to finish. He headed to the main area to eat; it was lunchtime now. Dae Jung grabbed some pre-made food, glad he didn't have to cook as he started to listen in on people's conversations. The spy got into one, unaware of Yong Soo sitting next to him.

"Hey, Dj—," Yong Soo began, before Dae Jung shot him a dark glare, making the hyper teen's words die in his throat. Yong Soo's face got more apologetic as he mumbled, "I'm sorry about yesterday, Dae Jung…"

Dae Jung's glare turned icy as he said in a frosty tone to match, "Sorry fixes nothing. You're an asshole, you know that?" The words cut into Yong Soo. It was clear; the artist's face fell from the apologetic to a sheer blank and empty look, hollow and gone. Dae Jung suddenly felt horrible, especially as Yong Soo hissed out, "At least I made sure you didn't have sex with anyone, the way you were all over people last night, and kept most of the damn pictures people were taking off of the internet."

Dae Jung's wince was audible as he looked back down at the lunch he was eating. Putting a bit of rice into his mouth, he didn't say anything for the rest of lunch, which had spread into a long, uncomfortably awkward silent amount of time.

Yong Soo stood up for his next class clearly, but looked over at Dae Jung, who had lunged out with a bit of a focused sort of speed. The spy had bit down on his lip and mumbled, "Hey…I'm sorry…Really sorry."

"It's fine; I just need to hear to soc," Yong Soo's face grew into an awkward smile. "Hit back at my dorm around six-thirty; we can fix this then, alright?"

Dae Jung swallowed and nodded, letting go as he headed off to his own class. Right…They could fix this, somehow. Right?

Wait…Why did he care so much?

However, at six-twenty-nine, Dae Jung was standing outside Yong Soo's dorm, pacing around awkwardly as he glanced at his watch one last time. Dae Jung wanted to make it up to Yong Soo; he knew he had been acting out of line, and it would be the better thing to do, to make it up to him. (And that, if Yong Soo ever remembered that Dae Jung didn't make up with him, it'd be one more unwanted memory, and the spy didn't want to be remembered.)

He knocked on the door, sighing a bit as Yong Soo's roommate, Raivis, opened the door and smiled awkwardly. Dae Jung's face got a dark scowl on it as Raivis stuttered a butchered annyeonghaseyo out. Dae Jung slipped off his shoes and replied, "Ne, annyeonghaseyo," and walked on in; he heard Yong Soo blasting some K-pop and singing along to it further back in one of the dorms.

Dae Jung walked into the back, looking in the open door of Yong Soo's trashed to a degree room. The artist was spinning around and singing along to some depressing song that seemed to be about some sort of wedding or whatever, not that the spy cared. Dae Jung watched Yong Soo, though, seeing the artist splatter a bit of watercolor onto something with a content grin.

For a few moments, they stood like that, in two completely different worlds, and Dae Jung felt like he had fallen down a rabbit hole into a completely different world. For a moment, he looked at his watch: Six-thirty one. Dae Jung knew where he would be in Pyongyang right now. Looking out the window and hoping that there'd be enough food for dinner, so he didn't have to pass up, so his mother could eat…

It was hard to remember that that was included in the same world as Yong Soo's careless painting. For a moment, Dae Jung didn't even dare believe it as Yong Soo spun around, the song ending. He looked at Dae Jung, and laughed a bit. "Ah, there you are! Go out into the living room, and help yourself to the take-out; I'll be out in a moment."

Dae Jung did as he was told, looking awkward as he glanced over at Raivis, who was sitting on the couch, eating kimchi and some rice while he clearly worked on some project that seemed a million miles away from his roommate, or their houseguest.

Yong Soo ran out and glomped Raivis though, kissing his head. "Annyeong!" He greeted, before tackling Dae Jung in a very similar manner; it had no kissing involved, much to Dae Jung's thanks and sigh.

However, he felt something on his chest, and Dae Jung grew a bright red as Yong Soo called, "Your breasts are mine!"

"Get off of me!" Dae Jung snapped and batted at Yong Soo, grumbling and blushing now. "You idiot cap-!" Dae Jung cut himself off. He could have just given himself away completely, much to his horror. One little slipup like that, and he'd be dead!

Yong Soo rolled his eyes however, and grumbled, "Jesus, when did you become such a lefty?"

"Huh?" Dae Jung blinked. Wait….He wasn't caught?

"…I was asking when you became a Marxist," Yong Soo deadpanned, "You're the Poli-sci student, shouldn't you know that by now?"

"Oh, shut up!" Dae Jung snorted and punched Yong Soo in the arm. "I can't believe you!"

Yes, Dae Jung decided mentally as they began to bicker, Raivis eventually getting on the jokes, their friendship was fixed.

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><p>AN: So, like I warned, crap chapter, and I apologise ;o; Reviews for me, please? I'll try and throw the next one out. Oh! And I'm giving all the chapters names! Mention in your review if you wanna see em!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Hello, everybody! I'm updating again! To my American watchers: Happy Thanksgiving, get fat for me, okay? Now, I'm going to go back to sobbing my eyes out. Never fall in love, guys. Ever. It sucks.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HETALIA, IM YONG SOO, OR RAIVIS GALANTE. I'VE NEVER LEFT THE UNITED STATES, AND I ONLY BORROW IM DAE JUNG (WHO HAS INSANE AMOUNTS OF FANGIRLS NOW D8)

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><p>When Dae Jung left Yong Soo and Raivis's dorm that day, he was happy. The slip-up Dae Jung almost had hadn't been noticed by either student in the room, and Dae Jung felt a huge weight leave his chest.<p>

As the streets of Seoul gradually got darker, evening setting in, Dae Jung felt himself getting more and more paranoid. It was completely dark, and he was usually at home in Pyongyang by now, hiding from the police. The unsaid curfew that Dae Jung had was shrieking at him that it was far too late, and the spy didn't want to risk any encounters with Seoul's police officers.

The student couple that lived on the floor above Dae Jung got a nod as he entered the shelter of his own apartment. A happy sigh escaped Dae Jung as he looked at the pile of homework on the floor. A glare came, but Dae Jung didn't head near it; he _hated _his Korean class, and Dae Jung's stomach seemed to be taking a bit more of a priority. Besides; the grades never really seemed to count, and skipping a few essays couldn't really hurt one's grades, could they?

The work on Dae Jung's floor remained there when Dae Jung went to bed that night; he had rationalized that he could do it later.

The next official day of classes was a day off; the teachers were having a work day, to finalize grades. So Dae Jung and Raivis had forced Yong Soo to take advantage of it; the artist was more than behind in the work they were all needing to do. They had all met at one of the tables in the non-fiction section of the library, and were pouring over work.

Dae Jung was internally cursing out the gods of irony at that moment; one of the more complicated bits of work for his government class was to write about 'the practical applications of Communism'. The spy could write a _novel_ on it, but he'd need to site sources, and Dae Jung was pretty sure that 'my life' wouldn't turn out well. Dae Jung sighed as he pushed his hair out of his face, looking clammy and feeling his hands shake as he marked something from _The Communist Manifesto_ down in a book. Were they even allowed to have it in South Korea? He wondered as he checked out another book, _In the Defense of Marxism_, and Dae Jung felt the bile rise in his throat.

"Hey, Dj," Yong Soo leaned over, not liking how ill Dae Jung looked, "Yong Soo to space cadet Dae Jung: do you read?" Yong Soo snapped his calloused, paint-stained fingers in Dae Jung's face.

When Dae Jung didn't reply after a moment, though, Yong Soo sighed and hugged Raivis, before kissing the Latvian happily and mumbling something. That more than got Dae Jung's attention as he looked up, glaring a bit now. Dae Jung's fists clenched in an anger that was covering up his jealousy, and he felt himself getting a bit more nauseous now.

The human peacock looked over at the slowly getting ill spy with more than a tinge of obviousness on his face. "So," Yong Soo began, curl bouncing as he let go of Raivis and hugged Dae Jung tightly, "Wanna go on a date sometime?"

Dae Jung's pale and clammy face flushed a bit, color making him look more ill now. He was unable to stay mad at Yong Soo as he shrugged and mumbled, "Maybe…" The world suddenly spun though, and Dae Jung covered his mouth with one hand, holding up a finger to say 'one moment' with the other. He stood up, before he ran to the bathroom, swaying a bit as his braid smacked him solidly in the back. Dae Jung leaned over a toilet, beginning to empty his stomach as he hugged himself.

Two sets of footsteps followed him, and a set of callused hands pushed Dae Jung's hair out of the way. He heard Raivis and Yong Soo talk for a moment as Dae Jung retched once more, shivering like a madman.

Dae Jung coughed the last bit of the bile out of him, and he leaned over and flushed, watching a bright off-white pill go down with the green-yellow-brown vomit. He placed his head on the cool white porcelain of the toilet bowl. Dae Jung hadn't taken any pulls of late, and he wasn't sure why he was feeling like this.

He felt the need to vomit again, but after a moment of closing his eyes, Dae Jung didn't say anything about that as he murmured, "Yong Soo…I really think I should go back to my place."

Dae Jung was held tightly in Yong Soo's arms, being rocked a bit as Yong Soo whined softly, "Are you sure you just didn't eat some bad food? I don't want you to leave…" Something seemed to be said behind those words, but Dae Jung felt too ill to think about it.

"I'm gonna get my stuff and go," Dae Jung sighed as he stood up, weakly shaking his head as he walked to the sinks and cleaned his face off, "See you later, okay?" After saying that, he walked back to the library proper, picking up the few books he needed and checked them out at one of the desks, before he began to back up his stuff.

Passing by one of the conference rooms on the way out, since that was how far away from humanity the friends had chosen to sit, Dae Jung heard something going on in one of the conference rooms. He stopped and leaned against the wall, curiosity getting the better of him. Dae Jung closed his eyes, not bothering to be subtle; unless whoever was in the conference room opened the door, or someone physically walked over to him, nobody could see Dae Jung.

There wasn't the cliché ear to the door; more likely than not, the pressing against it would give Dae Jung away at worst, or throw him off balance at best. He just sat next to the door, in a position to get ready to run if need be. Dae Jung's brown eyes closed; his hearing got better when he couldn't see, like how a human's body gave them better hearing for worse vision.

A voice from the inside, clearly male, cleared its throat, before it began; "Everyone's here. Alright; our meeting has begun from this point. We are the only members of the Party here, and we are about to begin out replies to the espionage attempts against us."

Dae Jung's eyes opened for a moment as his breath hitched. His mind raced with thoughts as they talked about converting more people to their side. There were others here with him? Dae Jung figured there had to be; he wasn't exactly stupid here. But acting like that? Being so blunt, in a very public college library, made it more than likely to get caught, especially since Dae Jung knew what defined treason in South Korea.

Dae Jung's senses realigned himself as he stood up. The conversations continued on, and Dae Jung began to mull over what he had heard. The more that he listened, though, it seemed that it wasn't what Dae Jung thought it was; the people in the conference room weren't spies like he was. They were sympathizers at most, play-acting at being members of the Party.

_Like how you're play-acting being a member of the South? _ The thought came to Dae Jung unbidden, and he did his best to dispel it as he began to walk off. Unfortunately, the gods of irony whom Dae Jung had been cursing so adamantly earlier had decided to screw the spy over. Namely, someone stuck their head out, calling, "Hey! We have a spy situation!"

Dae Jung's walking tempo increased, until he heard the people following him. The speed-walking turned into sprinting, and Dae Jung hoped he wouldn't be caught. However, as the chase through the library continued, it became clear that Dae Jung didn't know his way around. He was cornered by five or six of the cult-like students in a reference section that nobody used. His mind started to flee back to that night a few months ago when he had been cornered, and Dae Jung wished for Yong Soo so much then.

"What did you hear?" The leader, a student Dae Jung knew from class as a man named Ki-yong, demanded.

Dae Jung stepped back, touching the books on the selves as he thought nervously. He could take most of them…if he had a gun. Dae Jung's incoherent mind didn't allow him to reply as the students pulled him back to the conference room, where Dae Jung took count. Ten of them, not including himself, he noted. They all looked so serious, but Dae Jung felt it laughable; it was very clear to him that most of the students in the room were too uncomfortable to hurt him, let alone try to torture Dae Jung, or even kill him.

"What did you hear?" Ki-yong demanded once more, jerking Dae Jung into a seat. The elder student's face gave away that he wasn't amused, but it made Dae Jung crack a Cheshire grin.

"I found some spies~" The actual spy cooed into his seat, brown eyes gleaming with more than a bit of insanity as his technically-a-smile grew bigger, "And not very good ones, it seems; you're all meeting in a college library."

Ki-yong's face grew darker as he slapped Dae Jung across the face. It was clear that he wanted a reaction, and that Ki-yong was a bit disturbed by the look on Dae Jung's visage. A silent battle of wills between the two began then, and neither male intended on surrendering. For a long stretch of time, this went on, but in a short space of time-just a moment-Dae Jung's will faltered, and he gave this bit up: "If you're spies, I question your sense of judgment."

"Like you could do any better," Ki-yong replied sullenly and darkly, "You have no idea how important the work we do here is, kid."

_Challenge accepted_, Dae Jung's mind commented carelessly as the real spy shrugged and smirked a bit cockily, "You're a bunch of spies at worse, or sympathizers at best. Either way, do you know what _this_ country would do to you, never mind what _North_ Korea would do?"

He remembered those tapes they were forced to watch. Dae Jung remembered easily what the soldiers could, and most often, would, do to failed spies. Dae Jung had to make it clear on someone…His mother. Dae Jung did his best to blur out those images, to get rid of the screams of terror and pain out of his head. That was to a failed spy, but to an incompetent group of fools, like those in front of him? The price would be much, much worse…

Ki-yong's eyes widened as he backed up, frowning a bit, though he took a healthy dose of common sense. "You…You're from the North, aren't you? You're a member of the Party! Where exactly are you from?"

Dae Jung debated on answering for a moment, before it went to what answer he should give. Deciding on the truth was hard for him; he didn't want to risk blowing his cover. But, after a moment, Dae Jung decided that it wouldn't hurt him. Who would believe what these students had to say? None of them looked particularly serious. Dae Jung wrote the characters for 'Pyongyang' on the table with his finger, looking up at them all with a bit of a smirk.

A sharp inhale of air went through everyone in the group as they backed away from Dae Jung, clearly afraid of him now. The spy stood up, flicking his braid back. Dae Jung smirked as he began to walk out, stopping as Ki-yong said; "Wait…If you're from there…Can you help us?"

Dae Jung looked back at them, smirking vanishing as he thought for a moment, before shrugging. "I see no reason why not."

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><p>AN: I hope nobody forgot that Dae Jung was a spy! XDD As it is, I'm going to my corner of suffering from heartbreak. Review for me, since I updated twice, within reasonable time? Or because this chapter doesn't suck balls?<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hello everyone! I'm halfway done with the next chapter, too, so I'll hopefully be back up to speed once more. Sorry if this is crap; I've had a bad case of a life getting in the way. Also, I think you might hate me for what Dae Jung does in this chapter, so... And since someone was asking about translations, if it's important, I gave it an * and it's at the end of the fic. :3 See you soon!  
>DISCLAIMER: KATZUNITED-MEOW- ONLY KINDA OWNS DAE JUNG. GOT IT?<p>

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><p>The phone was ringing. A loud, piercing tone-deaf shriek of a phone tone was going off. Dae Jung groaned as he rubbed his temples; it was already giving him a headache far too early in the morning. The spy repressed a yawn as he picked up the phone.<p>

"Yoboseyo*, this is Im Dae Jung," Dae Jung slurred out, not completely conscious yet. He knew it wasn't Yong Soo; the teen wouldn't allow him to get a whole sentence out first. Sleep-worn mind continued along, he asked; "May I ask who is calling?"

"Ne, yoboseyo*," A woman's voice greeted Dae Jung. Her voice was bright, and it shot a bit through Dae Jung's sleep-worn mind. "I'm Kim Sae-Lyen, and I'm calling you back on your application for 7-11."

Dae Jung's eyes widened and he fell out of bed. Clambering over to his desk, Dae Jung grabbed a pencil and paper, "Yes?"

"We were wondering if you'd be able to come down for an interview tomorrow next week," Sae-Lyen was unaware of Dae Jung's rather ungraceful tumble, "Perhaps on Thursday?"

"Yes," Dae Jung quickly scribbled it the date down, grinning a bit, "Is the evening alright? I have classes until five that day…"

"Of course, we hope to see you then." The dial tone went off; Sae-Lyen hung up.

A happy shriek escaped Dae Jung, and he spun around classlessly. "Yes!"

Before he was aware of it, Dae Jung's hands were dialing Yong Soo's cell phone. Still up on his high, Dae Jung waited for a moment, impatient when there was no response. Calling two more times, it took Dae Jung a moment to remember that Yong Soo was in class; he turned his phone off then.

The high didn't vanish, however. Dae Jung typed a quick text out, and he bounced around for a moment. Sending '_Call me after class—DJ._' Dae Jung picked up his supplies and ran out the door. He'd be late, but thanks to the adrenaline rush, it wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be.  
>_At approximately six-thirty that evening, Dae Jung was looking at his watch. Yong Soo had told him during the lunch break to wait for him in front of the art building, and they'd walk back to Yong Soo's dorm together. However, the art student was late by fifteen minutes, and it was making Dae Jung begin to stress. Checking his watch once more, Dae Jung tapped a foot of impatience. The other students had left now, and Yong Soo was getting later…<p>

Dae Jung paced impatiently, looking down. It was six-forty five now. Dae Jung sent one more text, '_Hey. Are you there?_' He didn't get a reply, and Dae Jung walked into the art building. Looking at the room numbers, Dae Jung found Yong Soo's class number. There was someone in there, too, from what he could see through the door…Maybe the teacher? Dae Jung knocked, before entering.

The reaction from the two people in the room was awkward. Yong Soo jerked back from Raivis, looking at Dae Jung with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Yong Soo's hands were very clearly up Raivis's shirt, and it was very obvious, from the bright faces and bruised lips, and the way Raivis was pushed against the wall, that the two had been making out. Dae Jung choked a bit audibly, and his chest got an odd, tightness that was just pain all over.

"Aha…I'm sorry for be bothering you," Dae Jung whispered, the tightness making it hard to speak as he put on a smile and closed the door, backing out of the room.

Spinning on his heels, Dae Jung fled the art building. Fight or flight was heading from an adrenaline rush, and Dae Jung just ran. Fleeing that place, the spy more-or-less crashed into a bench on campus. Shaking now, Dae Jung tightly hugged himself as the first tears fell. Karma had bitten him in the ass, Dae Jung figured, repaying him for the library thing. Coming to this conclusion, a lump came in Dae Jung's throat as tears splashed onto the unforgiving concrete beneath him

Choked whimpers, hiccups really, escape Dae Jung's mouth as he tried to wipe his face off. He didn't understand the jealousy inside him; Dae Jung and Yong Soo weren't together in any way. An itchy sensation, not unlike bugs, crept into Dae Jung's wrists. He dug into it, and Dae Jung choked once more, feelings of worthlessness creeping up in him.

There was nothing between them, Dae Jung concluded, Yong Soo was just affectionate; the hugs and kisses meant nothing. It hurt to admit it to himself, but Dae Jung decided that it was all. It was all he would allow himself.  
>_<p>

Dae Jung had received the job. All of it ate up time; school, work, and those sympathizers that Dae Jung didn't know how to cope with…It was eating Dae Jung up. He had no time to sleep, nor put effort into much work, or any time at all to think.

The pain he had felt was slowly making him numb on the inside. Dae Jung did everything he could to avoid Yong Soo; it made it sharp, like a knife digging into his chest and twisting around. Dae Jung would swear that his heart was being hacked out with a fork, ran through a meat grinder, and shoved back into his chest, every time that he saw Yong Soo. The numbness that he was slowly feeling was helping reality be blocked out, though.

Dae Jung had the routine of work down rather easily, however. When someone walked in, he'd put on this smile he needed for work, which only hurt his face. It stretched around in an unnatural way, making Dae Jung look like a Korean version of a Barbie doll. That was the plastic smile. Forcing a smile on, and in his voice, Dae Jung greeted same as any other day, someone walked into the store, and Dae Jung plastered on his work smile. "Annyeong hashim nikka!* How may I help you?"

"Ne, annyeong hashim nikka, Dae Jung-ssi*," Came Raivis's voice. Dae Jung knew that he and Yong Soo frequented the 7-11; that was his original reason for wanting to work there, actually. He took a chance to look at them both, wincing. Raivis had pulled a struggling Yong Soo into the store, and gently pushed him over to the snack area and mumbled something, before the blond walked to Dae Jung.

"How may I help you?" Dae Jung was internally ready to lean over and strangle Raivis, but as he repeated the question, he didn't let any of that show.

"You need to talk to Yong Soo," Raivis's face was uncharacteristically dark, his tone seeming to say, 'If I had a knife, I'd cut your hair off and carve liar into your chest', "You made him _cry_, and in the two years I've known Im Yong Soo, he doesn't _cry._"

The tone made Dae Jung stiffen, and he was sure that Raivis wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. Dae Jung glanced at Yong Soo, who was picking out snacks in silence. Yong Soo's hair was flat, and a bit shiny from grease; he hadn't washed it, Dae Jung would tell. Tear tracks down Yong Soo's face were quite visible, much like as if Yong Soo had been crying. The reddish eyes that still had some water in them, though, was what made Dae Jung positive that Yong Soo was still crying, however.

There was a tapping sound, and Dae Jung redirected his attention to Raivis, who was tapping the counter, very obviously pissed off. "Are we clear? You messed up, and big time—."

"We were never together," Dae Jung cut him off as he continued to look around the store, "And he's allowed to kiss whomever he wants."

Raivis openly rolled his eyes, and groaned, shaking his head now. "Yong Soo's got severe trust issues, if you didn't know. He doesn't let people in. Didn't you notice that?"

"Raivis," Yong Soo had just walked over then. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder, before Yong Soo looked at Dae Jung, putting on just as much of a plastic smile as the spy was wearing. It was clear Yong Soo was trying too hard; the smile was easily see-through, and was threatening to fall off, "If Im-ssi* does not want to talk, it is fine."

An audible wince escaped Dae Jung then. Yong Soo was speaking so formally, and it didn't sound right. Even from their first day of knowing each other, Yong Soo hadn't even attached an honorific. No, from the first day, they had known each other as Dae Jung and Yong Soo. Im-ssi just sounded wrong from Yong Soo's mouth, and Dae Jung never wanted to think of the beautiful and depressed teen in front of him like that. Nonetheless, however, Dae Jung kept his plastic smile up as he rang up the items. "I am sorry, Im-ssi," Dae Jung replaced with equal formality, "Perhaps we could discuss this another time?"

Dae Jung choked up when they left. Hands went to play with his braid as Dae Jung took a moment to whimper, tears threatening to spill. The numbness had left, in favor of the sharp pangs of heartbreak, and damn, it hurt so much. Dae Jung roughly pulled on a knot. He had almost kicked his nervous habit, but right now it was holding him together before he altogether fell apart.

When Dae Jung tromped into his Korean class the next day, it was obvious he hadn't any sleep. Dae Jung's hair was thrown into a poor, and sloppy braid and he had dark circles under his eyes, along with bags. Dae Jung sat at his desk, groaned as he put his head down. He had worked until at least two in the morning, and then had to work on his class work, which kept him up until seven, whereupon Dae Jung had to get ready _for _class. Oh, he just wanted to close his eyes right now, and Dae Jung let himself.

He had come to a conclusion that what the freshmen joked about was college life; sleep, social life, grades. Pick two. However, in Dae Jung's unique case, it was more along the lines of: sleep, spying, grades, work, and pick three. Dae Jung's sleep and grades were being hit the worst by this pattern, too…

Dae Jung was crashing from an energy drink, and hard. He was finding it hard to focus on anything, and soon enough, his mind was wandering. Dae Jung had to meet up with Ki-yong and the others tonight, right after Dae Jung got off of work. It looked like another sleepless night in Seoul for the spy…

Dae Jung was soon enough napping in class. In the dream he had, though, he was back in Pyongyang, sixteen, and his parents were alive once more. Sleeping, recently at any rate, had been dredging up memories that Dae Jung simply could not cope with. Nevertheless, though, his mind was making him relive them, for the time being.

Mother had always seen people. They had never been there, but she had conversations with people whom had never existed. She'd always be off in her own little world, while Father had been conscripted off to watch the DMZ.

About around that point, Dae Jung was certain his family's troubles had begun. Mother had a nervous breakdown, right around when Dae Jung was born, too… She would only seem to get better when Father was home, and a few weeks before his seventeenth birthday, Father was home for good, and Mother was pregnant, expecting a new baby girl. Dae Jung had picked out the name, and his little sister was going to be named Jin Ae...

Dae Jung had begun to skip his meals; there was never enough food in the house to feed them all. Mother was pregnant, and feeding two people now, so she had to eat, and Father needed to eat to keep his strength. If anything, when Dae Jung had actually eaten enough to postpone hunger, he felt sick, and would vomit the food back up, so the teen would skip meals altogether.

Mother had been killed, though, Dae Jung knew. He was the one who found Mother's bleeding and broken body on the kitchen floor. Father had never been the same, in fact. He had a breakdown the same way Mother had, and soon enough, once Dae Jung had entered college as a self-sufficient man, Father had killed himself. And Dae Jung had to be the one to find that body, as well.

The images of his parents' broken bodies, just lying in the same spot in the kitchen, made Dae Jung wake up. He sat bolt upright, mind rushing at a hundred kilometers a second. His brown eyes were widened in terror, and Dae Jung clenched his fists tightly together to calm himself. He had to remind himself of whom and where he was. He was Im Dae Jung, nineteen, and from a small city called Daegang-ri. Not twenty-three and from Pyongyang.

Dae Jung's outburst hadn't escaped Yong Soo, who was still next to him, since there was purely nowhere else to sit. Yong Soo had scribbled a note onto a piece of paper, looking genuinely concerned. He passed the note to Dae Jung, who read it over.

'_You look upset. You were mumbling in your sleep about your mother. Is something wrong?'_

A moment passed as Dae Jung read it. He could be honest—to a degree. He could only say it was a nightmare, and that he was thinking of his dead parents, but he didn't. Dae Jung wrote another reply down, that he knew he'd regret.

'_I don't talk to whores.'_

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><p>Okay, here's the translations. If I talk too much, I'm sorry D:<p>

*Yoboseyo: Korean way to say 'hello' on the telephone. Same as Japanese 'moshimoshi' or French: 'allo'

*Ne, yoboseyo: When someone greets you, the correct response is 'ne, -insert word they used-'. So if Yong Soo said 'Annyeong', you would reply, 'Ne, anneyong.'

*Annyeong hashim nikka: There's multiple ways to say hello in Korean. The most common one you see is annyeonghaseyo, which is a quicker way to say annyeong hashim nikka. It's just a formal way to say it.

*Dae Jung-ssi: Raivis isn't being rude here, actually. –ssi is a way to say Mr., or Miss, or Mrs. The honorific that you're used to seeing in fics with South Korea is –nim, but –ssi's the correct one. It's more or less the Korean equivilant of –san

*Im-ssi: Going back to the –ssi of earlier, I'm only assuming that Yong Soo doesn't add –ssi to when he talks, because he talks informally. Since both his family name, and Dae Jung's family name are both Im, I would assume they'd use first names for that purpose. As it is, as I said, Yong Soo and Dae Jung were close, so they'd use given names, most likely without honorifics. So that's why it hurts Dae Jung.

AN: I know, I know. Kill me now and all that. Just leave a review as to why you're mad, okay? I love you all, and buh bye.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Yo, my lovely fans. Here's Chapter 7~ I'm thinking about writing another story, along with Your Republic is Calling You. Anyone interested in reading it? Lemme know~

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. NOT EVEN DAE JUNG. HE'S NEITHERWORLD'S. I'M ONLY BORROWING HIIIIIM.

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><p>Dae Jung's worn out body could easily spell out how purely exhausted the spy was. Dark circles and bags were underneath bloodshot eyes that were sunken into a pale face. He had just come back into his apartment from that stupid meeting; why on earth would Ki-yong hold one right before finals? They were all students; it was similar to attempting to herd cats-stupid and pointless… Dae Jung groaned softly as he fell onto his bed and closed his eyes.<p>

The spy's worn-out mind, however, seemed to not want Dae Jung to sleep; his ever-reoccurring haunting dreams-nightmares, really-along with the broken look Yong Soo had shot Dae Jung's way just wouldn't get out of his skull. Guilt plagued Dae Jung about it; from what Dae Jung had heard from the other freshmen, Yong Soo, had to leave one of his classes yesterday, due to a panic attack and hysterics. The regret of finding his ex-friend was filling into Dae Jung's pores, more than one way or another.

Brown eyes finally managed to close for a bit. There was a brief moment of dreamlessness, but soon enough, Dae Jung's eyes shot open; he had seen Mother's broken body, with the blood pool, and those dead, dead eyes staring up at him. As soon as he had managed to combat that image away though, another, less bloody, but still terrifying image, filled Dae Jung's imagination: Yong Soo at his desk, sobbing like a wounded animal, hugging himself and barely being able to breathe as the artist hiccupped like mad. Dae Jung shut his eyes again, his hands digging into his head as the unwanted image of the police dragging Mother's body away filled his brain. Dae Jung sat up abruptly, shaking like he was a little child, scared of a storm all over again, as the image of Yong Soo came back into his brain.

_There's just no way out of this damn cycle, is there_? Dae Jung bitterly demanded from himself. He glanced at the clock, and groaned; it was two AM, and the spy had gotten home around one-thirty that morning. He tromped over to the computer and turned it on, the bright glare of the screen temporarily blinding Dae Jung. He closed his eyes and winced, until he had adjusted to the one bright light in the otherwise darkness of his room. Pulling up Google, Dae Jung plugged in 'sleeping pills'. Maybe he'd be able to get some at the local pharmacy, but a quick search revealed that he wouldn't be able to; the ones without a prescription were rather pricey, and Dae Jung didn't want to go to a doctor. Sighing, Dae Jung pulled up Facebook. Maybe there'd be someone on he could talk to until he was too worn out to think anymore? Checking down his small list of online friends, Yong Soo's name was the first one up.

The cursor was over Yong Soo's name for a long, long moment, though in reality it was only a minute or two. Selecting Yong Soo's name, Dae Jung swallowed and opened a chat window, typing slowly, 'Can't sleep?'

A minute passed by; then two; then five. Dae Jung was prepared to just log off, before Yong Soo's icon said 'typing'. A brief second passed then, before Yong Soo's reply showed up: all in English, which made Dae Jung face-keyboard.

'_Srry. Ws fxng a pntng._'

'Yong Soo, I can't read English', Dae Jung sent back with a sigh, though he had to wonder; why was Yong Soo using English to talk to someone? It was almost two-thirty in the morning. Was he talking to someone in America? That made no sense; at earliest, in America, it was twelve thirty, yesterday afternoon…

'Sorry… Thought you didn't talk to whores?'

The acid tone came through loudly and clearly, in Dae Jung's mind. He audibly winced as he typed back slowly, 'No… I'm sorry. It's just that after I saw you with Raivis…'

The message wasn't even up for a moment, before Yong Soo's icon was typing again. Dae Jung held his breath for a brief moment, before the message came up: 'Don't. We're not together, and I asked *you* out, not him. I've just known Raivis for a long time, and he's been there for me when I needed him. I'm not going to explain what happened, or why, thought.'

A relived sigh escape Dae Jung's mouth, as he went to type, before Yong Soo's icon flashed back to the typing symbol. The next message showed up as a continuing of the same rant, it seemed, 'But you're still an ass who called me a whore. So you know what? Go fuck yourself.'

Yong Soo logged off, or at least went on invisible. Dae Jung felt his chest getting tight as he logged off the internet then. The knowledge that he was going to pay for that filled Dae Jung's mind then. Oh yes, Dae Jung knew that he'd be paying for his acid words…

The next day, Dae Jung was a hyped up mess in the library. He had been trying to study, but before he had shown up at the library, Dae Jung had six coffees; he hadn't been able to sleep at all. Between the two hours he had gotten here, and now, Dae Jung had also downed two of the lovely drugs called five-hour energy drinks. His pencil was tapping in an erratic Morse code as the spy seemed to develop a case of ADHD at his study table.

Dae Jung jumped about a kilometer into the air as Yong Soo and Raivis came over. Yong Soo's face spelled out the word misery nice and clear; it looked like the artist hadn't been sleeping well, too worn out from sobbing and having panic attacks. Raivis, on the other hand, looked very willing to murder Dae Jung, given half a chance. Raivis had easily not-quite-pushed Yong Soo into the seat across from Dae Jung, before the short blond slammed his hands into the table. Dae Jung jumped again, watching Raivis hiss out, "You better fix this, _now._"

It was official; Dae Jung had never seen the blond as angry as was then. Angry didn't even begin to describe Raivis; Dae Jung was quite confident that murderous would work just as well there. A small trickle of fear wormed its way into Dae Jung's brain, and the spy nervously clenched his clammy hands together.

_Please, oh please, just let us fix this thing by ourselves, Raivis, _Dae Jung internally hoped. He knew that Raivis wouldn't though, by the scowl on the other's face, and the tight clenching of his fists, Dae Jung sincerely doubted that it would work like that. As if to solidify Dae Jung's doubts, Raivis sat next to Yong Soo, and the shortest person at the table began to unhappily tap his fingers on the table.

Yong Soo's body was calm, restrained almost. Dae Jung could tell; Yong Soo's fists were being held too tightly, Yong Soo's body too stiff, despite the fact that Yong Soo was watching Dae Jung with an eternally sad look on his face. 'Not yet,' Yong Soo's body language was saying, 'Not yet.'

Dae Jung's Adams's Apple bobbed as the spy swallowed. He didn't dare to meet Yong Soo's eyes; there was clear hate in them, and Dae Jung didn't want to see it. He knew that Yong Soo was right to hate him, and Dae Jung knew it.

A moment of awkward silence spread out for moments on end. Yong Soo looked up then, and he mumbled, "Dae Jung…Why do you hate me? Did I do something wrong?"

_Because you're a whore_, Dae Jung's mind supplemented for Dae Jung's mouth, _and a whore doesn't deserve any friends; especially not a whore as sweet and loveable as you_.

At Yong Soo's broken look only getting worse, Dae Jung was aware of his mouth moving along with his thoughts, vocalizing what he was thinking.

"And damn you, Yong Soo! You act all nice, and you hug and kiss me, and then go around and make out with someone else! You're not a whore because you're messing around with at least two different guys; you're a whore because you play with people's emotions! Do you not have a concept of what trust is—?"

The stream of words cut off as Dae Jung watched in horror as Yong Soo began to cry again. Dae Jung began a weak apology, before Yong Soo cut Dae Jung off, beginning his own angry tirade.

"You think you're any better?" Yong Soo stood up and demanded, eyes glaring as his fists let go, "I get frisky with two guys-you and Raivis-but my _heart_ goes to only one! But you're not God, Dae Jung! You take people's trust and throw it in their faces; you play with my emotions as well!"

Dae Jung's tone easily spelled out anger as he winced and snapped back, "Do you expect any less? Really, Yong Soo?" Dae Jung heard his old accent slowly begin to creep back into his words, but at the moment, he didn't care, "If you act like a whore, I'll treat you like one!"

"Stop _calling_ me that!" Yong Soo screeched as his hand connected with Dae Jung's face. An audible crack filled the area as both of the men's screeching stopped. Suddenly, they were both aware of the eyes of not just Raivis, but almost everyone else in the library on them.

A blush of shame covered Yong Soo, who choked awkwardly and looked away, lower lip twitching as his tears froze, not coming out now. Dae Jung swallowed as he watched Yong Soo begin to walk off. His hand shot out, stopping Yong Soo, who looked at Dae Jung in confusion now.

"I love you," Dae Jung's voice was soft and intense, pleading with Yong Soo almost, "I love _you_. I'm sorry; I was hurt, and I hurt back, Yong Soo."

It was only human of them, and Yong Soo knew that. He swallowed, very upset and distraught still, but…The words meant so much to him as Yong Soo pulled Dae Jung into a tight, loving embrace as he murmured back, "I love you too."

Feeling like scum, Dae Jung pulled Yong Soo close to him. Dae Jung knew that it wasn't really the spy hiding behind the façade, the cipher, the nonexistent entity that Yong Soo was in love with. There was a real Im Dae Jung somewhere, who had made it into Seoul University, but he was long gone; dead or held captive, and Dae Jung the spy had taken his place.

Dae Jung ran his hand through Yong Soo's hair in a calming manner, rubbing at the base of the other's skull. He kissed Yong Soo's head, vaguely wondering if he'd ever have to meet Dae Jung's family. Praying he'd never need to, Dae Jung sensed something wrong with this, but, to be frank, he didn't care. He kissed Yong Soo's head, and pulled away though. At the inquisitive look Yong Soo gave him, Dae Jung leaned in and kissed him softly, blushing a bit more.

They held each other again for a long moment in time, a few good minutes, before Yong Soo blushed a bit, and whispered, "Since break starts in the next week or so, right after finals, let's hang out then."

Dae Jung's laughter was incredibly soft, and he nodded as he poked Yong Soo's nose. "Sounds like a plan… Tell ya what. I'll take you out; my treat."

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><p>AN: Awwww, aren't they just the sweetest couple ever? And you know... Reviewing is good. Very good. They make me wanna write more. ;3<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

__AN: Hello, my lovelies! I updated right before Christmas, too~ And if anyone's Jewish, Happy Hanukkah to you as well! And for Just Me: Gaaah. Your reviews make my day, seriously. I wish you had an account, so I could reply to you ;;w;;  
>Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is Hetalia: Axis Powers. But I'm getting an America plushie, so I can wait a bit longer.<p>

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><p><em>Whoever created finals, I, on behalf of all college students, will kill you,<em> Dae Jung morbidly thought as he rubbed his temples. They had a pulsing and pounding in them; it had been too hard to think in that room. The volume had been loud, until the professor had made them all shut up, and now Dae Jung had a migraine. He knew he was supposed to meet with Yong Soo; they had scheduled their date-Chinese food and going out to see some America superhero film-but Dae Jung just wanted to go home and sleep for a bit.

Arms flew into the air nonetheless, as another thought occurred to him: this was the last day of class, until the next semester. Letting out a worn cheer, Dae Jung grinned a bit. He didn't feel that sensation of drowning anymore; school was out, so there was just work, and the group wad disbanding for vacation anyways. In fact, as Dae Jung let out a happy cheer, he was tackled by Yong Soo then. They kissed softly and happily, grins not even bothering to be hidden on faces, and Dae Jung pulled Yong Soo into a tight, possessive hug.

"I missed you," Came the whisper as Dae Jung nuzzled Yong Soo's hair, kissing the other's forehead now.

"I missed ya too, dear," Yong Soo's whisper was happy as he laughed in a carefree manner, "How've you been? Are finals killing you too?"

"Just took my last one," Dae Jung teased smugly as he kissed Yong Soo tenderly, "Finals determine if we go onto the next semester, right?"

"First off, I am jealous," Yong Soo's groan gave it away as he gave Dae Jung a dirty and envious look, "Second off, yes."

"So why are you so excited?" Dae Jung question was curious, though the unquenchable grin on his face mad it a bit too hard to be taken so seriously.

"'Cause I get to be with you, and now you're not stressed out, or anything," Yong Soo's carefree laugh explained as he snuggled into Dae Jung's side, "You're always busy, with either work or school."

A grumble escaped Dae Jung as he nodded, not wanting to admit it out loud, even though he knew Yong Soo was right, in that regard, at any rate, "If you say so, Yong Soo.

The two were as silent as one could in Seoul; the occasional small bit of laughter or a murmur between the two escaped every now and again. They walked into the restaurant, the tackiness and cheapness obvious, even from the outside of the building; the lucky animals were on the front, and so was a statue of Buddha, and Dae Jung wasn't sure if that calligraphy on the sides of the doors even meant anything at all. He looked at Yong Soo, who was squeezing his hand. They both were silent again, before Yong Soo mumbled, "I feel like I should explain my actions to you…It wasn't fair to you."

Dae Jung swallowed tensely. Gazing at Yong Soo, the spy nervously bit his lip as he shook his head then. "You don't have to," He whispered, "I trust—."

"I'm sorry," Yong Soo's tone was serious as he cut across the other. "Please. I have to explain to you. It's only fair."

A quick and friendly _annyeong hashim nikka* _greeted the two as they both looked up at the person who ran the place. Neither said anything about the highly accented and formal language, though Dae Jung winced. Yong Soo gave the reply and got them their table as Dae Jung looked at him, wondering what Yong Soo wanted to talk about. They sat down, and Dae Jung's hands went to his braid in nervousness. Thousands of panicked thoughts ran through his head: what if this was a breakup? Or maybe Yong Soo was dying, or—

"I'm sorry," Yong Soo began voice tense and worrisome, which only heightened Dae Jung's sense of foreboding. Dae Jung bit his lip as Yong Soo continued: "I feel like I should explain why… If you want to listen, that is."

Dae Jung gave back a quick and stiff nod, tight-lipped. He didn't trust himself to say anything; Yong Soo looked nervous enough as he began: "I have problems letting people in and often, when I do, people only hurt me. I didn't want to fall for you only to get hurt."

A wince escaped Dae Jung. _Looks like his plan backfired, _Dae Jung thought nervously as he tugged on his braid a bit more.

Yong Soo's laugh held a slight tinge of bitterness, but he shook his head nonetheless. "Don't look like that. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know. But that leads me to my point. I was afraid of getting hurt, but you wormed your way in, without you intending to or not."

Yong Soo wrapped his paint-covered and callused hands around Dae Jung's nervous ones as they were pulled away from Dae Jung's braid. A kind smile was offered as Yong Soo continued on. "I was so used to nobody caring about what I did with my body that, to be honest, it never occurred to me that I might hurt someone else by doing it. I guess I was being selfish at that point, but I'm sorry; please take me—."

Yong Soo was cut off as Dae Jung leaned in and kissed him softly. Voice both intense and demanding, but at the same time, incredibly gentle and worrying, Dae Jung murmured, "Stop apologizing. Do it again, and we're over. Are we clear?"

Yong Soo's laugh was lighter, more carefree now, and he nodded. "Yeah, Dae Jung I got it."

A moment later, the two were eating food with a lighter conversation about classes, and Dae Jung's job. At one point, Yong Soo demonstrated that he could eat rice with chopsticks*, and Dae Jung proceeded to inform him that he was acting like an American who thought that all of Asia was Japan. Yong Soo laughed and squeezed Dae Jung's hand tightly, the two clearly enjoying themselves as they could almost be a picture-perfect couple.

However, at a quick glance of the clock, and about five or six plates of food later, Dae Jung and Yong Soo were running to the theatre; if they didn't, they'd be missing the film. Making it with time to spare, despite being indoors in the coldly bitter December weather, the heat was barely on, and they really could only unbutton their coats. They found seats easily enough; the showing was almost empty, with about four or five other people scattered around the room.

Almost as soon as they did so, the theatre went silent as the film flickered on, previews first. It was subbed, and not dubbed, though Dae Jung didn't care either way; he didn't like, or understand, the American film. It was about some man in World War 2, who seemed to be some sort of super soldier. It was rather obvious that Yong Soo was enjoying it, though; he was bouncing up and down hyperly, and inhaled sharply at one point or another every so often.

"I don't get this," Dae Jung's murmur was barely audible as the blond hero on screen punched Hitler in the face multiple times, each seeming from a different scene, "I thought he was a super soldier. Why isn't he fighting?"

Yong Soo sighed; Dae Jung had been asking those same sorts of questions for most of the film; they couldn't see the subs very well, and the only reason Yong Soo was getting so into the film was because he could understand. He kissed Dae Jung's neck and explained softly, "Because he was going to be locked up otherwise. He didn't get a choice."

A person from behind hissed for them to 'shut the hell up' then. Dae Jung squeezed Yong Soo's hand tightly, to restrain the both of them from saying something rude back. _If we're bothering you, please, go the hell away,_ Dae Jung thought as he kissed Yong Soo. The theatre had so many more seats in it, why couldn't the man just move?

However, once the film was over, and Dae Jung and Yong Soo left the theatre, the nippy air bit at Dae Jung's face. They could see their breath now, and Dae Jung held Yong Soo a bit closer to himself.

"Are you cold?" Dae Jung asked, teeth chattering in the bitter wind.

"Yeah…" Yong Soo replied and shivered more; he wasn't as well-adjusted to the cold as Dae Jung was. "Wanna go back to your apartment?" Yong Soo asked as he looked up, before swearing and saying, "It's gonna snow."

Dae Jung looked up at the cloudy and snow-threatening sky and swore as well. "Well, in that case, I think the dorms are closer. Can I bunk with you for the night?"

Yong Soo's grin was infectious as he nodded a bit and commented lightly, "So long as the dorm admin doesn't come by, and you don't try to cook."

"Hey!" Dae Jung yelped angrily, and flushed quite a bit at that. He smacked Yong Soo in the chest. "My cooking is edible!"

"Yeah, if I feel like being on the autopsy table for the pre-med students," Yong Soo teased and caught Dae Jung's hand with a bit of a smirk.

Arms crossed as Dae Jung stuck out his tongue into the bitter air. A snowflake fell on it, and he grumbled, "Fine. I won't feed you this time."

"Thank God for small mercies," Yong Soo replied as he opened the dorm up. He took his coat off, continuing on, "Raivis cooked himself dinner, anyways, and we did have dinner about two hours ago."

Dae Jung stiffened a bit at the mention of Raivis, but he rolled his eyes, "I don't care, Yong Soo."

"You're jealous," Yong Soo detected instantly. He frowned and sighed, "Dae Jung, he's my friend and roommate. You've no reason to be jealous." Slipping his shoes off, and making sure Dae Jung did the same, Yong Soo called, "We're back! Sorry for bothering you!*"

"Welcome back!" Raivis called back and stuck his head out of his room, "If you're still hungry, there's food on the counter!"

De Jung's eyes rolled affectionately as he heard Yong Soo call, "Dae Jung's sleeping over tonight! It's too cold out for him to head back to his place alone! He'll be in my room!"

"I'm in your room?" Dae Jung asked as he kissed Yong Soo, "But where will you sleep?"

"In my room too. You don't mind, do you?" Yong Soo kissed back and asked, blinking at Dae Jung.

Dae Jung blushed at the frank answer; he didn't think that was the best of ideas, but shook his head. "No, not really."

"Good," Yong Soo laughed as he led Dae Jung to his room, "You can be so silly."

Their lips met once more, and the smiles they both had on were sheepish. "I love you," Dae Jung whispered and pulled Yong Soo closer to himself, "So much."

Yong Soo smiled a bit angelically as he pulled Dae Jung down to the bed. They lied next to each other, and kissed over and over again, murmuring sweet nothings to each other. Dae Jung watched Yong Soo for a moment, who kissed all over his lover, and laughed a bit. The kisses began to turn a bit needier as hands strayed from innocent caressing to a bit more lewd. Shirts were removed and fell onto the floor somewhere, and Yong Soo quickly pulled away to close the door.

Pants came off next, along with socks and Dae Jung's hair tie as they kissed once more. Heat built to a crescendo between them, and Dae Jung snuggled Yong Soo long into sleep, and the next morning was the most awkward shower in the world.

So this was love, Dae Jung concluded, and he had found it, once upon a December…  
>_*Annyeong hashim nikka: Hopefully nobody forgot what this meant! In case you did, it means 'hello', like annyeonghaseyo does; it's just more formal<p>

* Yong Soo demonstrated that he could eat rice with chopsticks: In Korean culture, you eat rice with a spoon, typically. However, Yong Soo does have a very nice skill; speaking from experience, it's hard to eat rice with chopsticks

*We're back! Sorry for disturbing you: If I translated right, the original phase is 'Tanyowassumnida! Sillyehamnida!' Yong Soo's just announcing to Raivis that he's back; the first one is informal, and the second one is formal, but since he's with Dae Jung, who would have been more likely to say the second, Yong Soo added that to his statement.

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><p>AN: You know, reviews are good. Very good. Very very good.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Annyonghaseyo, everyone! :D If you didn't notice, I got a new name; KATZUNITED-MEOW- was making me think that I was a very immature writer, so... I changed it to Kankoku-ssi (Kankoku is Japanese for Korea, and you should all know what ssi means by this point), and I deleted all my old fics, because of how bad they were ^^"" I wrote a part of this before Christmas, and then a part of it after, so it's a bit behind our actual time. I'm sorry this took so long; my AP English class required me to write a huge ass research paper, and then I had drama and who cares, not me. So here's _Your Republic is Calling You, _chapter 9. Translations for any Korean I use is at the end of the story.  
>DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi is in no way associated with Hetalia: Axis Powers, Im Yong Soo, Raivis Galante, the Republic of Korea, Latvia, or the Democratic's Republic of Korea. The title for this fanfic is from Kim Young-ha's novel with the same name. Im Dae Jung is a shared character between Neitherworld and Kankoku-ssi, and the name Sae-Lyen is from my friend who lives down the road.<p>

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><p>Early Monday morning, Dae Jung groggily walked out of Yong Soo's warm and cozy room to the rest of the dorm. It was too early, and he needed his coffee, Dae Jung felt as he sat at the table, ignoring Yong Soo's statement of: "So, Kim Jong-Il is dead."<p>

"Give me coffee, then we talk," Dae Jung grumbled as he dramatically put his face on the table. He banged his head a bit, but made a grabby hand for the coffee machine.

"_No Korean until after the coffee_," Raivis grumbled as well, in angry English. He seemed to agree with Dae Jung, since Raivis stood next to the coffee machine and hit the buttons to turn it on and make the coffee.

Yong Soo laughed a bit too loudly and happily, before he hugged Raivis. He skipped over to Dae Jung and hugged him tightly, before Yong Soo quickly pecked Dae Jung on the lips and nuzzled him. It took a bit, but once everyone was awake, Yong Soo grinned and repeated himself. "Kim Jong-Il is dead!"

Hot coffee spluttered out of Dae Jung's mouth as the spy choked then. A burning sensation happened in his nose as he looked at Yong Soo with a small sense of terror. The Dear Leader was dead? A bit of hysterical panic rose up in Dae Jung's emotions; as a North Korean, he had been more-or-less raised on the consideration that Kim Jong-Il and Kim Il Sung were deity-like.

Dae Jung's hands tightened around the burning of the ceramic mug in his grasp. What was this going to spell out for the spies; would they have to leave? That thought rose bile in his throat; the thought of leaving Seoul made Dae Jung feel violently ill. The thought of leaving Yong Soo, leaving Seoul, hell, leaving the life he had gotten more than used to, it made Dae Jung feel dizzy and unlike himself. He swallowed and mentally swore to never go back to Pyongyang, ever.

A loud crack filled the room, and suddenly Dae Jung was aware of the cool ceramic piercing into his fleshy skin, and the burning coffee all over him. He winced in pain and swore softly he had squeezed the cup too hard, and it had broken, and now he had burns all over his damn body, and it hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Jesus, Dae Jung," Yong Soo pulled Dae Jung to the bathroom and had the spy sit on the toilet seat, "You got really upset for a moment. What happened?"

Dae Jung was silent, other than a few winces of pain as Yong Soo pulled Dae Jung's shirt off and began to towel at the hot coffee on his chest and arms. Dae Jung sighed and looked down, what could he—should he— say?

"…I have family in the north," Dae Jung whispered as he kept the whimpers of pain to a minimum, "They live in Pyongyang. I'm scared for them."

It wasn't a lie per say; Dae Jung did still have family in Pyongyang, but they weren't closely related to him, or part of his immediate family, but that wasn't why he was scared.

Yong Soo audibly winced, and moved his face around as he mumbled an apology to Dae Jung and removed the glass from the spy's hands. "God… I'm so sorry."

Dae Jung remained awkwardly silent as the ceramic was removed from his hands. He let Yong Soo pull the individual pieces from his hands, before Dae Jung went to take a shower; the water made the burns and the stinging cuts in his hand feel better.

_What's going to happen next?_ Dae Jung mentally demanded bitterly as he roughly began to scrub the coffee off of his arms and chest, ignoring the stinging of the soap in his injures hands. _Is some extra-planar being going to drag me back on my hands and knees to Pyongyang? I won't go! I WON'T!_

"Dammit!" Dae Jung swore as he smelled the coffee in his long hair. He grabbed the shampoo and conditioner and began to fight with the snarls in his long hair; he forgot to put it back into the braid after he and Yong Soo…had sex last night. Dae Jung blushed as he pulled a snarl out of his long hair. How had he gotten it to grow so long? It was illegal to have it as long as he did, and Dae Jung didn't know how he had been allowed to grow it to this length, let alone keep it at this length. He knew for a fact that they were more lenient in the mock-Seoul; the entire point was to blend seamlessly into South Korean culture, but….

Dae Jung sat down on the floor of the shower and pulled his hair around as to not sit on it. Holding his head in his hands, Dae Jung had to question himself. What would Mother have done? She had been a good spy, lying until the end about everything, especially where she was from. She'd have known what to do in this situation. But Father… Father would have Dae Jung pulled back to Pyongyang in a heartbeat, to set an example…

Dae Jung choked as he closed his eyes. He was trying to fight back tears; there was no point in crying, or at least that was what Dae Jung was telling himself at that moment. It failed, and tears leaking out. Dammit. He was so unsure—

"Dae Jung?" Yong Soo walked in then. He had heard the shower still running, and it had been about a half-hour now; the teen was sure the water had gone long cold. "You can't stay in there."

"But baby, it's cold outside," Dae Jung's voice was filled with unsaid tears that Yong Soo chose to think of as from the pain from earlier. Dae Jung climbed out of the shower and dried off.

Yong Soo snorted and bandaged Dae Jung's hands tightly. There was a kissed pressed to each hand, and Yong Soo muttered, "I know. You'll have to borrow my clothes for a bit; Raivis went to go clean out your clothes."

Dae Jung flushed a bright red then, but he nodded and sighed a bit. "Alright… Thank you."

Yong Soo smiled as he laughed and kissed Dae Jung's head playfully. "It's not a problem dear. Let's just get you dressed, okay?"

Dae Jung's laugh was carefree and seemingly innocent as he stood up, and came to a decision. He'll stay in Seoul.

"Annyong hashim nikka!*" Dae Jung greeted as he cleaned the coffee counter in the back off. He was at work, the only cashier running the store today, with the exception of Sae-Lyen, who was doing managerial things. "How may I help you?"

"Ne, annyong hashim nikka*," A young woman greeted Dae Jung as she set some items on the counter, clearly intending to pay right away. She smiled; "I'm looking for Im Dae Jung."

Dae Jung felt his blood chill about fifty degrees as he looked at the young woman. He had to know who she was; as Dae Jung ran the woman up, he continued to get more panicked, and his smile seemed to twitch a bit.

"Oh. Why? Im-ssi's* not in trouble is he?" Dae Jung's voice came out light, in a small-talk cashier manner, but internally, he was scared senseless; Dae Jung felt an awkward sort of messy panic attack coming on in a manner that resembled social anxiety.

"No…" She shook her head sheepishly and smiled awkwardly, "My friend from his hometown wanted to talk with him. When does he work next?" To indicate, she pointed to someone outside. Dae Jung couldn't make the figure out, and that terrified him even more.

"The twenty-seventh, actually; He said he was going to Daegang-ri, and all three of our managers are off; after tomorrow we're closed," Dae Jung lied again, keeping his voice cheery as he handed her the bag filled with her things. It bought him some time, especially as the girl left, seeming satisfied with that. He eyed her talking to the person outside, who nodded.

_Who __**was**__ she? Was she telling the truth?_ Dae Jung asked himself as he repressed the panic attack. He ran outside; Sae-Lyen had given him some won* to get some ice from the gas station next door; they were out of ice, and the ice machine was broken, and they needed some to fill up the soda machines with.

_There was no way that she had been,_ Dae Jung decided as he paid for the two giant and weighty bags of ice, _Odds are, she's a spy, or…a federal agent. And neither one is a good thing…_ Dae Jung loaded the machines full of ice as he thought of plausible lies to say when they came looking for 'Im-ssi' on the twenty-seventh. Maybe he could lie and say that Dae Jung was dead? No…

"Annyong*, Dae Jung!" Yong Soo tackled Dae Jung out of nowhere as Dae Jung made a 'hurk' sound. Dae Jung jumped a few kilometers into the air and flailed for a moment, before he swallowed.

"N-ne, annyong*," Dae Jung replied with a bit of a nervous little smile. He sighed in relief that it was just Yong Soo. "How are you?"

"Good. Finals results are supposed to be mailed soon," Yong Soo replied, oblivious to Dae Jung's inner struggle, "You heading back to Daegang-ri for break?"

It was _that _town again, and that fake name, the alias again. They kept seeming to ride up in his life; Dae Jung could have gotten over the name, since it was his, but…every time things seemed to get _normal_, Dae Jung's fake past (and his real one) kept riding up into the show. Dae Jung shook his head, not wanting to give any thoughts of his away.

"No," Dae Jung shook his head. He went back behind the counter and grinned as he reassumed his life as a simple cashier as he went back to work, "Im Dae Jung's staying right here in Seoul."

"Oh," Yong Soo nodded and grinned brightly enough to power the entire peninsula, seemingly delighted by the news, "Well, I'm staying too. Raivis just left for Riga, a bit earlier, so my dorm is empty."

"Really now?" Dae Jung felt a smirk on his face rise up as he and Yong Soo conversed for a bit longer, at least until the younger male headed back out of the 7-11, and Dae Jung went back to work.  
>_<p>

That night, Dae Jung found himself unable to sleep, as was slowly starting to become his norm in life. Guilt was plaguing at him and had infected his brain in such filthy and depressing ways. Thoughts he doesn't need collided in his head, and they clawed their way into having a hold in Dae Jung's stream of consciousness.

It took a moment, but Dae Jung suddenly had an epiphany that was brought on by his lack of sleep; most of his best thoughts, like everyone else, came at night: he's no spy. A spy could be able to keep all of these feelings at bay in order to focus on the goal at hand. He is a _traitor_. To himself, his dead family, and the Party, and that is what made Dae Jung a pathetic waste.

Dae Jung sat up in horror at the thought. He is a traitor to _everything_. He had become his mask of the usual teenager in college, and that thought was what terrified him: the thought of that there was only ever being an Im Dae Jung and the man in Pyongyang just a not-quite-lucid dream.

The spy ran to the bathroom, feeling sick to his stomach now, in a way that felt a bit too much like over-eating. He vomited into the toilet, before Dae Jung wildly took a look at himself in the mirror.

The first comprehensive thought he had that went through his head was that he looked like his mother. His wild, beautiful, and yet, completely insane failure of spy, mother. Dae Jung had his mother's hair, for sure; the dark and long locks were something that had always framed her face in a way that filled it out, and definitely her eyes. Those dark chocolate brown eyes that never seemed to always be around, but on Dae Jung's face, those eyes were always so intense, filling out the same heart-shaped his mother had a bit eerily too well. The wild, yet horribly ill look on his face was sadly far too familiar; it was just like his departed mother's expression, and Dae Jung panicked at the pained feeling of bugs in his skin; his mother felt that, too.

And Dae Jung just couldn't tell who was in the mirror; if it was him, or his mother. Logic kicked in though, and he sat back down and hugged himself tightly, and began to choke back dry sobs. One hand dug into his wrist as he began to mumble to himself. "No...That's not mother…that's me…_That's me_."

Dae Jung remained like that, long until his wrists were a pained wreck of blood and bits of meat slipping out; Dae Jung had literally peeled most of his skin off of his wrists. Bits of his flesh were hanging from his nails, and everything was covered in his own blood as Dae Jung gagged once more. He wasn't like his mother. He was _nothing_ like her. He didn't dare be otherwise; his mother was…There was a reason she was dead, and he would _not_ be like her.

Grabbing some scissors, Dae Jung choked up as he grabbed his braid. He jerked it to the left side as he whispered, "Hair, today you meet your doom." His hands shook as Dae Jung lopped the braid off. He knew that it took more than one cut, but it was more of a hacking and cutting motion more than anything. He felt pain, but it was an emotional pain, of having something so familiar, but to him, it felt _good_.

The braid was picked off the floor, and Dae Jung felt more than a bit light-headed; his hair had weighed quite a lot, and without it there, Dae Jung felt rather dizzy. Looking in the mirror, Dae Jung winced at the awkward and sloppy bob that he now sported. The few quick jerks had made his hair lopsided; the left was long enough to his shoulder, but on the right, Dae Jung's hair curled around his face, like a lover's caress of the cheek.

The back was what made him wince, though. He felt air on the back of his neck, and it was a sharp, definite shock to his system. Dae Jung hesitantly touched his hair, before he swallowed.

Dae Jung punched the mirror, though all he succeeded in was a hurt hand. Around this time, though, he felt the pain in his wrists acting up again. Dae Jung swallowed and debated on the pros and cons of going to the hospital. The biggest one though, was the prevalent 'what if?' of 'what if they find me out?' was pressing itself on Dae Jung's mind.

He didn't want to be found out, and it wasn't just for fear of what would happen to him; Dae Jung was terrified of what would happen to Yong Soo now. No, Dae Jung would just bandage himself up. It distracted him from the pressing issue of his new hair cut either way.

He didn't sleep that night; sleep would only hurt those tiny mental stitches he had plastered up.  
>_<p>

The next morning, Dae Jung had only ventured out to get the mail; he had called out of work; he didn't want anyone to see him like this.

Dae Jung was hunched over the few open envelopes, and one opened letter, which was a cordial letter from the university that had been more-or-less a letter saying that he had been kicked out. Tears were threatening to spill over; this was the last thing that Dae Jung had needed in his life, right next to the haircut.

A knock on the door came as Yong Soo walked in with a happy 'sillyehamnida*', before he stopped and blinked at Dae Jung.

Yong Soo walked over carefully and gently put his hand on Dae Jung's. "Dae Jung? What's wrong?"

Dae Jung choked, unable to look at Yong Soo as he mumbled, "I just can't do this anymore…" Dae Jung wasn't quite sure what he was referring to, but he just felt wild and out of control.

Yong Soo frowned as he just pulled Dae Jung into a tight hug. He ran a hand through Dae Jung's much shorter hair and murmured, "What can't you do?" He eyed the open letter, seeming to think that the letter was the reason; there was no way for Yong Soo to know the truth now.

"This! This life!" Dae Jung snapped as he pulled at his lopsided haircut, "If I have to be Im Dae Jung for another _minute_, I'm going to snap!"

Dae Jung didn't seem to realize just how suicidal his words sounded; his meaning of wanting to quit spying and just return to Pyongyang was unknown. To Yong Soo, it sounded as it Dae Jung wanted to kill himself.

So the spy was pulled into a tighter hug as Yong Soo gently rubbed Dae Jung's neck. "Oh, Dae Jung… It's going to get better. I promise; nothing is forever. I promise."

Dae Jung felt his eyes water. _You don't understand,_ he wanted to scream, _I'm not real. No matter which end of this damn peninsula I live on, I'm a traitor to myself, and the place I call home._

Nonetheless, the words coming out of Dae Jung's mouth were a soft 'promise?' and a small cry as he held onto Yong Soo tightly.

He felt safe and loved, and once Dae Jung had calmed down enough, he let Yong Soo finish the sloppy hair cut off.

As Dae Jung looked in the mirror, he felt light-headed and dizzy for a moment. He leaned into Yong Soo's hands, which were running through the now-shorter hair.

A sigh escaped Dae Jung's mouth as he touched the chin-length bob that curled around his face. "Pity…I shouldn't have done that…"

"It's refreshing," Yong Soo replied and smiled a bit awkwardly. "We look alike."

And they did now, much to Dae Jung's alarm. His hair cut had given him a flyaway curl, much like Yong Soo's, but downward-facing. They could have easily passed as siblings now, which held more than a sense of lingering awkwardness as they quickly kissed.

Dae Jung had just traded the resemblance from one person he loved to another, is all.

* * *

><p>Annyong hashim nikka: Formal way to say hello<p>

Ne, annyong hashim nikka: Reply to the saying

Won: South Korean currency :3

Annyong: Informal way to say hello

Ne, annyong: reply to that as well

Im-ssi: In case anyone forgot, -ssi is the Korean honorific for Mr., Miss, or Mrs. Dae Jung's lying, so he's referring to himself in the third person.

Sillyehamnida: Sorry for disturbing you. Formal greeting for when you enter someone's house.

* * *

><p>AN: Alright, not all of that was edited, but I won't tell you what parts were and weren't; I don't want you to think any less of me otherwise.<p>

Throw some reviews at me, people!


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Annyonghaseyo, everyone! Sorry this took me so long; once more, life is trying to get in my way, and now I'm shooting for slightly longer chapters. Hopefully I'll start getting things on track soon... This took almost two weeks, wow...Haha. Hope everyone likes it! As usual, translations for anything with an asterik (*) are at the end.

DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi is not in any way, shape, or form associated with Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Democratic People's Republic of Korea, the Republic of Korea, or Im Yong Soo. Im/Kim Dae Jung is a fanmade character that is shared between Neitherworld and Kankoku-ssi

* * *

><p>Quite some time later, Dae Jung grumbled as he read through the new schedule that had been put up in the break room. Looking over the list for the next two weeks, Dae Jung winced as he knew he'd have to be skimpy and live from paycheck-to-paycheck; he didn't have nearly enough hours over the next week, and Dae Jung needed to buy groceries; the entire fridge was almost out, and although he didn't eat much, Dae Jung didn't plan to not have food in his fridge at the end of the week.<p>

As it was, though, Dae Jung was just content that he had gotten paid. Running out the door, he began to plan on what to use his money on. Maybe he should pay the bills first; although the rent included utilities, he still had to pay for the phone and such.

Dae Jung just settled on being content for a bit. He grinned and became oblivious to the world, much like the other sheep-like people of South Korea. Dae Jung pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Yong Soo's number with a speed that could only be matched by a female American teenager, or a Japanese person. He was unaware of the person following him as Dae Jung slowly began to meander to his bank.

"Yoboseyo, Yong Soo*!" Dae Jung's laugh that came was happy and carefree, at least for the moment. He nervously ran his hands through his short hair, still not used to the short length, or how cold his neck was in these winter months. "How are you?"

"Ne, yoboseyo, Dae Jung*," Yong Soo clearly had just woken up, if the sleepy tone and the breathy yawn was anything to go by. Dae Jung heard Yong Soo sitting up in bed, and Yong Soo wiped at his eyes as he mumbled in a worn out manner, "I'm tired; I went to visit my parents, and I'm still at their house; you woke me up."

"I'm sorry," Dae Jung mumbled awkwardly as he walked into the bank. Going over to one of the tables, he pulled out a deposit form and he looked for the bank pens that were always on the table. "I could call you back, if you want?"

"Hell no," Yong Soo griped as he forced himself out of bed and stretched. Looking at his bright footie pajamas, he commented, "I'm going to your house today, remember?"

Dae Jung chuckled lowly, as to not disturb anyone nearby, before he said, "Yeah, that's right—hang on; I need to fill this deposit form out."

"You be my hard worker," Yong Soo teased lightheartedly as Dae Jung heard a box of cereal being opened in the background, "And I shall forage for breakfast—hang on; there's someone at the door."

Dae Jung laughed again as he pulled the phone away, as to not be rude. Giving the bank teller his check and the deposit form, Dae Jung put his phone back up to his ear as he walked out, before he frowned; Yong Soo hadn't gotten back yet.

"Yong Soo? Dear, are you there?" Dae Jung asked and frowned; he thought he heard a shriek and the cocking of a gun in the background.

"Yoboseyo, Im-ssi*. That is your name, ne*?" A woman's calm voice asked softly. She was quiet, clearly waiting for an answer, and Dae Jung's blood ran cold. She laughed quietly at Dae Jung's silence, before she asked, "Or would you prefer Kim-dongmu*?"

Dae Jung stopped moving in the middle of the sidewalk. He froze, hearing the busy streets of Seoul pass him by as someone hissed out, "Fucking kids! Get off your damn phones and get out into the sun more!"

Dae Jung swallowed, trying to get his thoughts together, before he hissed out, "Who are you? How do you know who I am? Where's Yong Soo?"

"So many questions, Kim-dongmu," She chuckled happily as she scolded Dae Jung, before she adopted a condescending tone, "Why should I answer that?"

"Why are you here?" Dae Jung snapped, getting more than a bit testy with his demands as he pushed his hair out of his face and began running.

"So, Kim-dongmu," There was a bit of a chuckle, "Im-ssi is in Daegang-ri?"

Dae Jung froze once more, at least mentally; he was still running. There was a huge amount of paranoia that was rising in him. Slamming his phone shut enough to crack the screen, Dae Jung swore; they knew where Yong Soo was, there was every guarantee that they knew where he was.

Dae Jung kept running down the streets, mind racing twenty kilometers an hour as the bugs came back into his wrist. He absentmindedly scratched as he thought nervously, almost tripping. There had to be some way… There just had to be!

The spy skidded to a stop, actually falling over now, as he came to a horrorific realization: he had no idea where anything was. He didn't know where Yong Soo's family lived, or where he was, and Dae Jung was pretty damn sure that wandering around blindly was more than likely to get him kidnapped.

Dae Jung swallowed as he took off running. Feet pounding into the concrete, Dae Jung figured that he'd find Yong Soo eventually, right? Although his lungs aflame were and eyes his were watering, Dae Jung wasn't completely startled when he was jerked behind and into a white unmarked van; Dae Jung had been looking around for a bit. He began to scream and struggle and Dae Jung knew for a fact that he broke somebody's nose, but Dae Jung knew that his fighting was in vain; he was jerked into the van easily, and his mouth was covered with a damp rag.

By the time the van slowed a bit again, Dae Jung's world was almost completely faded to black as he heard the screams of another person being pulled in. They were familiar, but Dae Jung was out cold long before he could figure out who it was.  
>_<p>

Meanwhile back in time to when Yong Soo had been talking in the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl and a box of coco puffs. "You be my hard worker," He teased Dae Jung light-heartedly, before Yong Soo poured the new package of cereal into the bowl, and then grabbed some milk, "And I shall forage for breakfast—"

Someone pounded on the door then, rather urgently and loudly, as if they needed to be talked to at that exact and brief moment in time. Yong Soo rubbed his temples as he moved his pajama-covered body towards the door unhappily.

"Hang on; there's someone at the door," Yong Soo grumbled as he sat his phone down on the table next to the door, before he opened it and frowned a bit. "Annyonghaseyo*?"

"Ne, annyonghaseyo, Im-dongmu*," A young woman, a bit shorter than Yong Soo himself, greeted as she aimed a gun at him. She smiled, not completely caring as she asked softly, "May I come inside?"

Yong Soo's eyes widened in shock; he didn't know this person, and she had a gun. He backed up and just nodded in terror, letting out a shriek that was muffled as the woman pushed the gun into Yong Soo's mouth, cocking the weapon. She walked inside and picked up the phone, smirking.

"Yoboseyo, Im-ssi. That is your name, ne?" She purred out, before she chuckled, "Or would you prefer Kim-dongmu?"

The gun remained aimed at Yong Soo, and the young woman maintained her condescending tone, before she made a 'tut'ing noise, and then she flipped to a scolding one.

"So many questions, Kim-dongmu," She laughed again, as if amused, "Why should I answer them?" She was silent for a moment, before she asked, "So, Kim-dongmu, Im-ssi is in Daegang-ri?"

Yong Soo blinked and frowned in a curious manner as he watched her hand up. _What? Who was Kim-dongmu?_ Yong Soo thought, before he hissed out angrily, "Leave Dae Jung alone, you!"

She smiled back at him, as if assuming he was just slow on the uptake, before she clicked her tongue and shook her head, "Oh, Im-ssi. Did he not tell you? Such a pity… Well, we can't kill you…"

Yong Soo was pushed back against the wall and forced out of his house. He struggled hopelessly as he was forced into an unmarked van, before he was thrown onto the floor. His eyes widened as he looked at a mostly unconscious Dae Jung next to him.

Yong Soo was screeched at to shut up by one of the people in the van, which made Yong Soo squeak nervously; the people in here frightened Yong Soo senseless.

Wait…Yong Soo blinked in thought; he could have sworn that they had a similar accent to Dae Jung, especially when Dae Jung for upset, or angry… _Like he had forgotten to cover up his accent_, Yong Soo realized with a growing horror. Was…was Dae Jung a spy?

Yong Soo felt a pain blossom in the back of his head as someone smacked him in the back of the head, and harshly; he was sure it was with some sort of metal, or something. His face was roughly jerked back and covered up with a rag, before he passed out from shock.  
>_<p>

When Dae Jung came to, much, much later, he was tied up in a chair, and under a bright light that was not quite unlike staring directly into the sun. His wrists chaffed against rope as he blinked, trying to align his sight, but he winced; the light instantly hurt his eyes. Trying to wipe at them, and failing miserably due to the fact that his arms were tied back, random tears fell from his eyes in pain.

Dae Jung sighed helplessly, and tried to not let out a form of a whimper. Trying to scan around, the tears dried off, but that bright light ruined any chance of being able to see in the room.

"Ah. Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu*," A light voice—a gender neutral voice—commented lightly from just out of Dae Jung's limited range of vision.

Dae Jung spat at where he assumed the person was, and judging by the noise the person made in disgust, Dae Jung gave the smallest sense of satisfaction, knowing he had made them just made enough. Besides, Dae Jung doubted that he could get his mouth to work well enough to speak; everything felt horribly fuzzy to him at that moment, not quite unlike being under Novocain at the dentist's office.

A sharp slap across Dae Jung's face made the spy squeak in pain. There was a sharp pain that felt a bit too strong to be just a slap spread across his face in a manner that rose up from deep within the muscle and it blossomed, covering the entire span of Dae Jung's face. Dae Jung wiggled jaw around lazily, trying to pretend that the overall lack of feeling wasn't disturbing him at all.

"Now, let's try again." The person said coldly, clearly not amused as the words became more clipped, and the consonants were almost spat into Dae Jung's face, "Annyong hashim nikka, _dongmu_."

Dae Jung grumbled sourly as he tried to scan the room, but he replied back in a barely mumbled and slurred manner, "Ne, annyong hashim nikka, dongmu."

"That's much better," They replied with a bit of a snort. "Now; can you tell me your name?" They asked in a manner that implied that they thought Dae Jung was slurring his words in contempt, and not as if Dae Jung just couldn't talk due to the drugs.

"Im Dae—" Dae Jung began, before he was cut off.

"_No_." The person didn't sound amused in the slightest, before they snarled out, "Your _real_ name, comrade."

"Kim. Kim Dae Jung. I shared the first generational and given names* as my alias." A gun was cocked, and Dae Jung said the words quickly, not wanting to get shot at that moment. He swallowed, hoping that was the correct answer, even if the words were still coming out wrong.

"Ah. How… _unusual_ indeed," The tone didn't like that answer clearly, but Dae Jung didn't feel any pain, so he assumed that was what they were looking for. "So, Kim-ssi*… what did you learn from your time in Seoul?" The question sounded like a trick, the way it was phrased.

But nonetheless, Dae Jung winced awkwardly. He hadn't learned anything he could report back; Dae Jung had easily forgotten about his entire mission altogether not too long after his breakdown; for the first few days after, it was just too much to get out of bed, let alone remind himself of who he was, and why he was in Seoul to start with.

The intense, and yet completely awkward silence stretched out for a moment that only seemed to prove that Dae Jung hadn't learned anything at all. , Dae Jung's interrogator sighed and said softly, "We don't want to hurt you, Kim-ssi. Just answer the question. What did you learn in Seoul?"

Dae Jung kept his silent, unwavering in any manner, before the first blow came. It was a taser blow to the left leg, but it was also a sharp, fiery pain that came with a bang. It sunk keep into his bones, before it spread up the side of his leg like an acidic and electric burn, which made Dae Jung groan in agony. His leg tried to curl inward to protect himself from the blow, but the same pain ran through Dae Jung's leg for a second time, which caused a shriek of pain to escape Dae Jung's mouth. Whimpering helplessly, pain-filled chocolate eyes glanced up, unable to deal with the shock his system had just had.

"Answer the question, comrade, and the pain will stop," The interrogator said calmly, as if Dae Jung wasn't panting in pain and hadn't just been tased twice, which was enough to knock a lesser man out.

_As if_, Dae Jung thought bitterly, doubting that entirely, before he hissed, "Fuck you." And as if on an invisible cue that Dae Jung couldn't see, another round of the acidic pain built up in his body. Dae Jung did his best to not scream, he really did; Dae Jung was more than used to pain, especially of this sort, even if it didn't add up to emotional pain in the slightest. The training had taught him how to resist pain like this, but oh, how it _hurt_, like no tomorrow.

A small, helpless, and pathetic whimper escaped Dae Jung's system as he closed his eyes. Shivering in a helpless manner, Dae Jung watched the dark form of his interrogator leave the room. The lights flickered off then, and Dae Jung hissed as he vaguely smelt burning flesh in the room. He knew that it had to be his leg; the pain in the limb was more than proving it, but Dae Jung just simply couldn't believe that his left leg was cooking.

Dae Jung's mind stretched to Yong Soo as he passed out, slumping over in his seat. It was only for a moment, it seemed, before Dae Jung maintained his unconsciousness, and began to converse with a figment of his mind.

"Ah! Annyong hashim nikka, Dae Jung-dongmu!" A deep, but childishly naïve voice chirped happily, "Don't pass out!"

Dae Jung felt his head be pulled up, before he inhaled sharply; the face could have—

Dae Jung looked at a smiling version of his younger self. A braid was wrapped around one shoulder, though it wasn't as long as his used to be; it was only about mid-back or so. The uniform the younger one was wearing was still meticulously clean, and the hat was lying perfect on the other's head. Unlike the Dae Jung in his early twenties that was wrapped up in the chair, this Dae Jung was still young, and full of dreams it seemed. But what unnerved Dae Jung the most was his counterpart's huge smile; it was huge, unnatural even, and it didn't help that the other Dae Jung's eyes were wide open, like he was just waiting for the elder to lie down dead.

A high-pitched and half screeched giggle came out of the younger Dae Jung's mouth as he played with his braid in a seemingly nervous habit that the elder had escaped, if only because the braid was gone. "Now now," The younger one reclined against the wall a bit, wiping some dust off of the uniform that had just attached itself. He adjusted his hat and commented lightly, "Does being a traitor like yourself means that you can't show a modium of respect? You make me sick."

Dae Jung frowned as he watched his counterpart maintain the same childishly disturbing smile that seemed to eat up the younger's entire face, the way it almost seemed like the Cheshire Cat. "Fuck off. I don't need to talk to a face-stealer like you." Dae Jung hissed, before the other one snickered.

"Really, _Im-ssi_?" He asked, his smile glowing as if a young child had caught another in the wrong. The emphasis on the stolen name only drove his point closer to home, before he said lightly, "Last I checked, you were the spy. _You_ stole Im Dae Jung's life. _You_ were the one using a different name."

"Sh-shut up!" Dae Jung snapped as he felt a pang in his chest. It was the truth, but truth hurt, as much as he liked to deny it. He looked away, not wanting to listen to the mirror image (his conscious, a small voice told him) for another minute.

"Face it, Dae Jung;" Dae Jung's conscious smirked, which only made the grin seem even more sadistic and warped now, "You're worse."

"Shut up! This is all in my head!" Dae Jung replied angrily as he attempted to kick at his conscious angrily, "This is all happening in my fucking head! Leave me alone!"

It grunted, but backed up, as the smile slipped the slightest bit. "You should have just stayed in Pyongyang, kid. You're in over your head. Just like Mother was. You're a traitor, just like she was. Traitors come from traitors."

Dae Jung choked in shock, and knowing that it was true and he looked back down. "Shut up. Just shut up. You're an ass. Leave me alone."

A small giggle came from the conscious then as he leaned in quickly and whispered with the smallest hint of a smirk, "I'll never leave you alone. You want know why, comrade?"

"No," Dae Jung hissed out as he shot a death glare out now.

"We're the exact same person," Dae Jung's conscious laughed as he kicked Dae Jung in the leg, before kissing Dae Jung's head in a mocking parody of affection.

Pain, not quite unlike the acidic fire from earlier, screamed up Dae Jung's leg and escaped his mouth, as Dae Jung proceeded to pass out in his own head.  
>_<p>

Yoboseyo, Yong Soo: Hello, Yong Soo! This is used on the phone.

Ne, yoboseyo, Dae Jung: Hello, Dae Jung. Also on phone.

Yoboseyo, Im-ssi: Hello, Mr. Im. Do I need to translate for Im-ssi anymore?

Ne: Korean for yes.

Kim-dongmu: Kim is Dae Jung's _actual name_, and –dongmu is the Korean word/honorific for…comrade. Looks like I brought the communists in.

Annyonghaseyo: Hello. It's the intermediate between annyong hashim nikka and annyong. Yong Soo's saying it because it might as easily be Raivis, or it might be the dean of the school.

Im-dongmu: Comrade Im. Behold. I know the word comrade.

Ne, annyonghaseyo, Im-dongmu: Hello, Comrade Im.

Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu: Hello (formal), comrade.

Generational and given names: As best as I can explain it, with the help of my buddy Syn here, it goes family name (Im/Kim), generational (Yong/Dae), given (Soo/Jung). Family names are given from your father, like our last names, and generational names are to say that you're all siblings. Like as Yong Soo, Yong Min, Yong Dae, etc, etc. No two siblings share the same given name, like Yong Soo, Hyung Soo, Dae Soo, etc, etc. It's like naming both your kids George.

Kim-ssi: Mr. Kim. (Do I need to translate this anymore?)

Annyong hashim nikka, Dae Jung-dongmu: Hello (formal), Comrade Dae Jung.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, here's chapter 10 for you. It's going to all start going down hill from here for poor Dae Jung and Yong Soo. Review, please! I love you all, and goodnight; it's 1:06 here in the USA when I update!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Annyonghaseyo, everyone! How are y'all? I'm good, thanks for asking. Fic time! :D  
>DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi doesn't own anything. Not Dae Jung, either. He's Neitherworld's and mine. We share. Like communists.<p>

* * *

><p>Much later down the line, Dae Jung finally managed to come to. It took a moment for him to re-orient himself, but he wasn't in pain anymore, he noticed. Dae Jung felt his mouth being horribly dry, like cotton had absorbed everything in his mouth then.<p>

"Dae Jung?" A soft, worried voice asked lowly, barely audibly, like someone was in another part of the room. It was so familiar—painfully so, in fact. There was a loud clamor of footsteps, like someone had jerked away and ran over. A warm hug enveloped Dae Jung, and it was a shield, from the cold, bitter outside world that had harmed everyone. "Oh God…Dae Jung, if you can hear me, say something!"

The voice was recognizable then. Yong Soo…That was Yong Soo, wasn't it? Dae Jung let out a small, pained groan as he looked up and did his best to identify the person talking to him. "Yong Soo? Is that you?"

"Yes…Yes, it's me. Oh _God_, Dae Jung," Yong Soo's voice was a soft whisper, as if he was terrified to be heard. He pulled his lover close, and Yong Soo's hands began to caress Dae Jung's hair

"What's wrong?" Dae Jung asked as he nuzzled Yong Soo's chest and pushed his head against Yong Soo's hair reassuringly. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, not yet. I'm fine," Yong Soo's voice was pained, as if he had been hurt in between showing up in Dae Jung's cell, and leaving his own. He sighed a bit, "But you… You're hurt pretty badly, Dae Jung. Do you even think you can move on that leg of yours?"

Dae Jung shook his head sadly. He knew he couldn't; although there was no more _pain_ in his leg, Dae Jung knew he couldn't move it. Biting his lip, he mumbled, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, really," Yong Soo whispered and sighed. He absent-mindedly pulled a knot out of Dae Jung's short bob and kissed his head, "I've just been in a cell…I heard you screaming."

"Oh…" Dae Jung's barely audible mumble was laden with guilt. He kissed Yong Soo's neck as best as he could, before Dae Jung sighed and continued to mumble, "I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Yong Soo."

"Don't be… You're going to be okay. I promise." A hand ran across Dae Jung's neck as Yong Soo's gaze became more serious. There was more than a healthy tinge of fear in Yong Soo's eyes, however, and his voice trembled slightly, giving away the frightened sense of panic that Yong Soo clearly felt.

Dae Jung bit his lip roughly, and felt blood come up. His lips barely moved as he murmured intensely, "One tap for yes, two for no." He had chosen the Chinese-based numbers, instead of the Korean ones*; they required less breath and mouth moving on his part, and Dae Jung knew he could be quieter with saying them.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dae Jung asked. Less than a second later, he felt a tap, and then a second. Two for no.

Dae Jung's wince was a bit too audible as he did his best to keep his voice low. "They hurt you, didn't they?"

There was one tap. They had hurt Yong Soo. Dae Jung looked at the man, and winced; it was quite obvious that he had been hurt, now that Dae Jung looked at Yong Soo. There were some bruises on his body, and one of Yong Soo's eyes was blackened, and there was a hand mark across Yong Soo's face. Dae Jung understood what had happened then.

"They told you, didn't they?" Dae Jung whispered quickly as he heard the guards coming in.

Yong Soo tapped once in an erratic and terrified manner, before he was roughly jerked off of Dae Jung, and away, before he was 'escorted' out.

Dae Jung felt a lump in his throat, and he swallowed then. What kind of friend was he, which he couldn't help—what kind of _lover_ was he? Dae Jung demanded from himself angrily as he heard the clipping of high-heeled boots walk into the room.

"We are not without mercy, Kim-ssi*," The voice of the interrogator was back, and it was low, and perturbed almost, "We can let your friend go. He's an innocent, isn't he?"

"I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last," Dae Jung hissed angrily, a bit offended as he vaguely wondered how stupid these people thought he was, "Don't lie over something like that, bastard!"

They chuckled and there was a far-too-loud click as they turned the light onto Dae Jung's face, blinding the ex-spy once more. "Tell us about yourself, Kim-ssi. What's it like, knowing you are a traitor, just like your mother?"

Dae Jung flinched at that; it was still too raw in his mind, like an open sore festering on the brink of his mental stitches that were easily going to become undone with a little bit of pressure. Swallowing, he hissed out in a taut voice, like a tightened wire string, "I am no traitor. My mother's choices in this life do not reflect my own."

"Kim-ssi, let us see reason," They said in that same scolding tone of voice that was starting to grate on Dae Jung's nerves, "You felt closely aligned with the place of your mother's birth, so you tried to vanish into it. You betrayed your heritage of influential Koreans, and you betrayed the Party by choosing the South."

"No. It was all a cover, all of it," Dae Jung whispered desperately as he heard a gun cocking. He didn't want to get shot, was all… "It's an act, an alibi, and it never meant anything! Please, believe me!"

"Tsk, tsk, Kim-ssi," They shook their head, before they chuckled lowly, as if having just been informed of something, of their ace in the hole, "Do not lie to us. We will always know, and we know that it was certainly not an act. It is impossible to fake the emotions that you felt so strongly about."

"Let me prove it, please," Dae Jung begged now as he tried to push his chair back and out of the way, but from what, he didn't know. "_Please_."

They were silent for a long moment, clearly weighing their options, before they chuckled and said softly, "Very well. If you can shoot—and kill—your precious Im-ssi*, we'll have you vanish. Does that sound fair?"

Everyone in the room knew that it wasn't a question, let alone a fair one, but Dae Jung felt sick. He…had to kill Yong Soo? There had to be some other choice—some other way!

_You killed mother, _that sickly sweet voice of his conscious hissed in a way that made Dae Jung feel far too helpless, far too pathetic now, _you can kill that annoying little brat who caused all this! Besides, if he hadn't ever talked to you, on the first day, we wouldn't be here!_

Dae Jung was dragged to another cell. He stood in front of it, before a pistol was slapped into his hands and cocked for him. Dae Jung's hands were shaky as he gripped the weapon with a sweaty palm, before Dae Jung was thrown into the room. He glanced at Yong Soo, terrified about what was about to happen.

"Dae Jung!" Yong Soo asked in a happy, but nervously soft voice. He didn't know why Dae Jung was holding a gun, but that didn't stop him from asking, "How did you get in here? Let's get out!"

_Yong Soo…_ Dae Jung thought sadly as his grip around the gun tightened. "I love you…" His voice was breathy, scared and worn out.

"I love you too, Dae—" Yong Soo cut off as he watched Dae Jung aim the gun at him. Disbelievingly, Yong Soo's eyes widened to a degree that made him appear Caucasian for a brief moment as he stared down the barrel of it in shock.

"D-Dae Jung…?" Yong Soo whispered as he tried to scoot his chair back. "Why are you pointing the gun at me? P-put it down…"

Dae Jung's grip on the weapon only succeeded in getting tighter in his sweaty grip as he just said, "I'm sorry."

Dae Jung fired the gun, the two quick and loud bursts, which made Yong Soo scream like a terrified little girl, which was perfectly reasonable in the situation. Tears threatened to spill out of Dae Jung's eyes as he then threw the gun to the side, and it smacked the wall. Dae Jung swallowed, ran over, and hugged Yong Soo tightly.

Dae Jung had missed on purpose, deliberately. He just couldn't…he couldn't kill Yong Soo. Dae Jung had come to realize that he didn't want to live in a world without the most-likely-traumatized artist now. They were both dead as soon as someone came to check on them.

After a moment of long, long waiting, Dae Jung heard the guards coming. He swallowed and kissed Yong Soo quickly, and full of passion. The guards ran in as Dae Jung pulled away, and they attempted to pull Dae Jung out of the room.

"Yong Soo, I'm—" Dae Jung called as he was being yanked out of the room.

"I don't want to hear it! Go, Dae Jung—is that even your name? Your _republic_ is calling you!" Yong Soo snarled out through clenched teeth. His entire tone spelt out bitter hatred for Dae Jung, and the spy took note on how his lover's emphasis on the word 'republic' seemed sarcastic at best.

Dae Jung flinched in shock, and his eyes widened in hurt. He looked horribly hurt and broken, and for a moment, Yong Soo felt guilty for saying it, but maybe…Just maybe…

Dae Jung was roughly jerked back into his own cell and slammed into his seat. _It… it was all over,_ he realized in shock, _all over_. He was smacked across the face, and it left a large mark.

"The only way either of you can be saved now is if Supreme Leader* himself comes in and saves you."  
>_<p>

Around when Dae Jung turned sixteen—not too long after the lunar year, when birthdays counted*-he had found his mother's old journals. They had dated back from as early as 1962, when Mother had still been a young woman and they had—at first—seemed extremely wooden, like an actor reading her lines in a way that she had been afraid of messing up.

But nonetheless, Dae Jung had been utterly fascinated by this prospect; his parents were never really open about when they were younger, like both Mother and Father had been hiding something. And up until early 1988—the year of Dae Jung's birth—they were just like his mother, a young married woman named Kim Ma-ri, and Dae Jung knew her all too well. But once they hit that point, Dae Jung felt more than a bit violently ill.

'_No. No. I'm pregnant. With his child. I'm carrying this seed of communist spawn within me. I'm in far too deep, having a child with one of these soldiers… We're already close enough to the Leader's* family; it's no wonder I haven't been caught._

'_Dae Soo* is delighted, of course. He can't wait for our son—or daughter—to be born in Pyongyang; right now the quality of life is much better here.* But, when it comes down to it, I am a citizen of the Republic of Korea*. Not the Democratic People's Republic of Tyranny*._

'—_Park Soo Yang*, 4 March, 1988'_

Most of this entry had been scrawled over with that name, Park Soo Yang, before the name that Dae Jung knew—Kim Ma-ri—had been scribbled on top of that, as if trying to conceal everything that had been written. But I didn't work, and Dae Jung felt even sicker because of it.

At sixteen, Dae Jung had come to understand that his mother's breakdown had been caused by the stress of having a son—communist seed, she had called her _son—_and the perfectly explainable fear of being caught.

He stood up, and yanked the sheet of paper out of the journal, roughly tearing out everything but that _name_. There had to be some sort of logical explanation, he told himself; there was just no way that his mother was a spy. There was no way. Just no way; Ma-ri was a lovely Mother, and she had done her best to raise Dae Jung and—

Dae Jung walked into the kitchen. He eyed his mother's back; the pregnant woman was cooking something, and it would have been too easy to kill her now. But…If she could explain this…

"Mother?" Dae Jung asked softly, voice barely a whisper. He watched her spin around, the braid she had in her hair following her movements. For the first time, he realized just how old his mother was; there was more salt than pepper in her salt-and-pepper toned hair, and there were creases in her face, not quite unlike laugh lines; Dae Jung knew his mother had been old when she had him; she had been in her forties.

"Yes, Dae Jung?" She smiled at him kindly, all there for a change of pace as she walked over to her son then, "Is something wrong, dear?"

"…" Dae Jung steeled himself, hoping that this would all end well. He bit his lip for a moment, before Dae Jung began to play with his relatively short hair, "Mother…Who is Park Soo Yang?"

"?" She was startled, and backed up, which made Dae Jung have to walk over to her. Mother had placed a hand on her swollen, pregnant stomach, as if she felt the need to protect the unborn (and never would be born) Jin Ae from Dae Jung. "Where did you hear that name, darling?"

Dae Jung picked up a cooking knife from off of the counter then; it still had food on it, and he knew that Mother had been cooking with it. Eyes glimmering in hate, Dae Jung held up the piece of paper with the damning evidence on it. "In here. Your journal."

A loud slam happened as Dae Jung smashed the paper onto the table, and pointed at it with the knife, as if he thought that Mother hadn't seen it clearly enough. The knife in Dae Jung's sweaty grip moved around a bit as he clenched and unclenched and then clenched the knife over and over again, like he was afraid he'd drop it, "Who is Park Soo Yang?"

Mother never had a chance to scream. She tried to move, but the movement was ineffective as her son pinned her to the floor and mercilessly hacked at every available part of her body. After his mother laid on the floor, blood dripping out of her long dead body, Dae Jung hacked the baby—Jin Ae—out, in a hope to save her.

Jin Ae never had a chance to breathe. Nauseated, Dae Jung ran out and threw her into a nearby dumpster; it was so late in Pyongyang that it was actually early, and nobody was awake now.

To cope with the trauma, Dae Jung's mind had obliterated that memory.  
>_<p>

"Park Soo Yang, comrade. Who was she?"

Dae Jung's mind flickered back to the present then. "Huh…?"

"Tell us who Park Soo Yang is, and we'll let your friend go."

The small bundle of hope vanished then.

"I don't know…"  
>_<p>

Chinese-based numbers vs Korean ones: Basically, in Korea, there are two different sets of numerals that can be used. The Chinese one is more common, especially after 10, and it's also used when counting things successively, like money, and time. Those ones are: Il, I, Sam, Sa, O, Yuk, Ch'il, P'al, Ku, and Sip, for one through ten. The Korean ones are: Hana, Tul, Set, Net Tasot, Yosot, Ilgop, Yodol, Ahop, and Yol, for one through ten.

Kim-ssi: Mr. Kim

Im-ssi: Mr. Im

Supreme Leader: Kim Jong-un. AKA: The third leader of North Korea/Kim Jong-il's son.

Birthdays and the lunar year: In North Korea, and South Korea, I believe, your birthday is added up on the Lunar New Year, and not your actual birthday. So if you were born in December, your birthday is still January 1st or 2nd.

Leader: Ma-ri/Soo Yang is referring to Kim Il Sung here.

Dae Soo: Kim Dae Soo. Dae Jung's father in this. c:

Quality of life in North Korea: All of the history books about the two Koreas that I have read state specifically that, up until Kim Jong-Il took over, North Korea was a much, much stronger off country than its brother country to the south, and much better than it is now.

Republic of Korea: Official title of South Korea

Democratic People's Republic of Tyranny: This is actually on the TV Tropes webpage under 'People's Republic of Tyranny'. I'm just using it here, because North Korea is actually the best example of the trope.

Park Soo Yang: As far as I'm aware, Soo Yang is actually the name for Nyotalia!Yong Soo. So that's Dae Jung's mommy. /just got lazy here

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><p>AN: What? Reviews? Yes, these are good yes.<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Here you go. Sorry it too so long as it did; things haven't been the best right now for me. Also, I may or may not have spent a whole bunch of writing time trying to catch up on Homestuck, which helped...  
>Disclaimer: Dudes, if I owned any of this, I think Hetalia'd be <em>majorly<em> different.

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><p>It had taken a bit, but Dae Jung had come to hate the audible sounds of doors opening and closing. Opening the door would lead to a bout of torture on his behalf and closing the door would lead to the loud shrieks of terror from Yong Soo, who was being tortured.<p>

Dae Jung _loathed_ it. He yearned for Seoul; the urban crawl of the capital city—although oppressive when not comprehended, or more often than not, desired—was something the ex-spy had come to understand in an intimate manner that carried the same as being in a romantic relationship with a person. That sort of intimate trust came from only being so involved in something that it becomes your life.

The sheer intensity of that even slightly cohesive reprise of a thought brought tears to Dae Jung's eyes; he knew that he had betrayed that vital sense of trust that made—and defined—a connection between humans, between friends, and it was the pivotal key between lovers.

_But that is what a spy does_, Dae Jung rationalized in a way to protect himself from his own thoughts, _for when you aren't even a real person—_

At the memory of Yong Soo's angered face though, Dae Jung cut himself off of that thought before it dared to continue onward. He didn't understand in the slightest bit; he hadn't _shot_ Yong Soo and Dae Jung had acted in their best interest, so why had Yong Soo been so livid? Of course, if Dae Jung judged by the screams he had been hearing, it was bluntly a guarantee that Yong Soo was being tortured on Dae Jung's unwilling behalf.

And at this moment, those screams had been continuing, long past the formation of any sort of coherent set of words. They had started with that, but the time for coherent pleading had long past—the screams had stopped then. Dae Jung strained his ears to hear, before he heard the door slam shut and there was some sort of intense whispering from the guards outside of his cell. Dae Jung didn't know why—didn't care why—but the fact that Yong Soo was no longer screaming was good, provided it wasn't from Yong Soo having passed out, or anything else such as that.

The door to Dae Jung's cell opened with a soft creaking sound that was a bit too high-pitched; it burned at Dae Jung's ears to listen to, and provided a headache for anyone listening. Fresh air—sweet tasting freshness that reeked of the outside air—leaked into the room. It burned at Dae Jung's nose and eyes, and his eyes watered, but he refused to let that affect him anymore.

"Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu*," The voice of Dae Jung's interrogator greeted after a moment of silence. It was the same person, Dae Jung had come to know now, but then again, it always was.

"Ne, annyong hashim nikka, dongmu*," Dae Jung replied as he looked at the person, finally—after what seemed to be a month—being able to see, and hear them.

It was a man. He was old, and stooped over; Dae Jung could tell the man's age by the completely silver hair—which was still long and pulled back into a ponytail, which was an oddity; unless you were an older person, you couldn't have such long hair to start with. The uniform that the old man wore was very decorated; most of the badges of honor were from early on in the Fatherland Liberation War*, if Dae Jung was correct. It was possible they were from earlier, but he doubted it; there were no wars in which brought Korea as a whole glory, or would have allowed a Korean to have risen to be that influential in recent history.

"I can barely see," The old interrogator said softly and shook his head, as if he was a teacher lecturing a younger student. He walked over to Dae Jung, cane clicking loudly—echoing in Dae Jung's head, almost, "Yet I can see you clearly. You're a young man who is a part of the movement that will one day bring our country back together.

"And yet, I don't see you. All I know is that you compromised yourself to the south. I want you to explain this to me, comrade. How? _Why_?

"Sir?" Dae Jung asked, not comprehending the situation at all, nor the question. How was this of any sort—any semblance—of relevance? "I fear that I don't understand…" _Best to act meek; your snarky behavior has gotten Yong Soo hurt_, Dae Jung told himself snarkily, making his chest feel a bit too tight now.

"You let yourself believe the lie. Why would you allow yourself to do that?" The interrogator asked once more. The old man's brow furrowed in thought as if he was trying to understand Dae Jung, and his actions.

"I never intended for it to be this way," Dae Jung sighed awkwardly and looked down. He eyed his feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world; the man seemed to look right through him, "Never; I am no willing traitor to the Party."

"…You are Kim Dae Jung, son of Kim Dae Soo and Kim Ma-ri?" The man asked then, voice sounding oddly thick, as if he was going to break down and cry.

"Yes sir," Dae Jung replied calmly, wondering what his long-dead parents had to do with any of this at all, or why on earth the old man cared, "And the grandson of Kim Yong Min and Li Sun Hae*."

That statement made the man seem to still then. "…Dae Jung?" He asked softly. That voice…When paired with his name, Dae Jung blinked. Wait… Was this his grandfather?

"Yes sir?" Dae Jung asked and frowned. If this _was_ his grandfather, it just made everything a bit more awkward all around, especially—

"…You'd make your grandfather proud, boy," The man said and sighed a bit. That just solidified it for Dae Jung—this was his grandfather, and the gods of irony—whom Dae Jung had cursed quite copiously before—had manifested in the form of the guards of this specific gulag.

The comment made Dae Jung blink as he watched his grandfather leave. Dae Jung didn't understand why on earth he would be; surely the soldiers in charge wouldn't have done that, in order to mock some sort of resemblance of sanity, right? Right?

After a long, long moment—so long that it was a span of time, not just a brief moment within a certain span of such—Dae Jung's grandfather came back with a highly unbalanced Yong Soo, who was staggering around as if he was drunk. Dae Jung studied his lover, struggling to figure out why something was wrong, before Dae Jung's eyes widened in a mix of shock and horror.

Yong Soo was missing a leg. And the wound was clearly fresh; there was still wet blood splattered all over the pajama pants Yong Soo was still in, and it was a bright shade of red that could seem to be ketchup, if it wasn't so liquid-like. It dripped onto the floor as Yong Soo lolled his head around, as if clinging to consciousness in a manner that said very clearly: 'If I close my eyes, I _will_ die.'

The old man set Yong Soo down on the floor, making sure that Yong Soo was supported—and still awake—for a moment, before he freed Dae Jung from the chair Dae Jung was attached to. "You're both being relocated," He grumbled and patted Dae Jung's head in a familial manner, as if telling Dae Jung to be good.

Dae Jung blinked in annoyance—he was older now—but didn't question it as he and Yong Soo were jostled about for a moment, and carried outside to a car. The flurry of events that happened next was missing in his head; Dae Jung had been too busy making sure that Yong Soo didn't bleed out. As it was though—at some point, Yong Soo had to have his wound cauterized; he wasn't bleeding out anymore.

"Yong Soo, are you alright?" Dae Jung asked softly, shaking as he held the other close again. They were loaded into a large military-issued truck as Yong Soo grumbled and tried to push Dae Jung away, before failing miserably

"No. I'm _not_ alright. I'm missing my _leg_, I lost my lover, and I'm fairly certain that I'm going to die before I ever go back to Seoul—if I ever do. So no, Kim-ssi*, I'm _not_ alright."

Dae Jung flinched at the acidic words and the tone that sounded far too much like blame. He was _sorry_, so bitterly _sorry_… Why didn't Yong Soo seem to understand that? It made so very little sense to Dae Jung at all…

"Yong Soo—."

"And don't call me that*!" Yong Soo's eyes watered as he glared at Dae Jung in a way that would make someone as evil as the Devil flinch, "You're not Dae Jung! Not my Dae Jung, at any rate; _you_, Kim-ssi are a citizen of the Democratic People's Republic of Tyranny*—."

"Where did you hear that name?" Dae Jung cut Yong Soo off. That term… It was so _familiar_… Why? _Why_? He had heard it; Dae Jung knew he had—oh. _Oh_… His mother…

"My cousin… Cousin-in-law, on my mother's side," Yong Soo blinked, rant being cut off for a moment, "Mom said that that term was what she called _your_ country. She vanished."

Dae Jung bit his lip and sighed. Best to come clean, even if only in a small way that would—most likely—be thrown into his face. "…In one of my mother's journal entries… That's what she called it."

"So, like mother like son? You both chose to spy on the country you hate," Yong Soo hissed out unhappily as he scooted away from Dae Jung. His defense mechanisms from the lack of trust were kicking in; Yong Soo's brain was telling him to hurt—hurt in a way that would leave the other staggering and crying.

And Dae Jung swore that he wouldn't hurt Yong Soo. He swore it to himself; Yong Soo was a person he loved, a person he let in, and Dae Jung wasn't going to let this end up like Mother… Fists clenched tighter, and Dae Jung's temper flamed, but he would not hit Yong Soo. He was better than that… So it completely startled them both as Dae Jung smashed his fist into Yong Soo's jaw.

"You _fucker!_ You have no idea what you're talking about! You have _no_ idea!" Dae Jung screeched at Yong Soo, shaking like a Chihuahua in heat.

Yong Soo looked up, as if seeing Dae Jung for the first time. The calm, quiet, and introverted freshman was gone; this was a different man, full of passion, and rage, and _hate_. Sweet, sweet hate, which seemed to fill up Dae Jung entirely.

And it wasn't just the physical appearance, Yong Soo thought; no. Dae Jung—the one he knew—always had seemed pressed in on himself, as if he had always been anxious, or been betrayed. But now, Dae Jung—the one he didn't know—was bold—rash almost and easily ruled by his rage and hate, and his body language was loud, aggressive.

Dae Jung kept screaming at Yong Soo for a long, long time, before a loud, "…SO DON'T JUDGE ME!" was screamed out. Tears splashed down his face as Dae Jung stopped screeching to curl up on himself. They were tears of rage; Dae Jung was no longer a crying child who cried every time he got hurt; Dae Jung's tears were more from frustration than anything else.

Neither talked for the rest of the day.

Dae Jung and Yong Soo were awoken long before the sun was up in the sky proper. It seemed as if they had passed out somewhere along the way; about a few kilometers north was the outline of Pyongyang, which had been less than a dot on the horizon when Dae Jung had last checked.. The one spire—the unfinished hotel, Dae Jung knew—gave the city away more than anything else that was visible did.

The two were pulled out of the vehicle and they both eyed the city unhappily. Dae Jung pulled Yong Soo close so that the crippled teen could walk. Or at least, that's what Dae Jung was telling himself; he couldn't—wouldn't—think that there was anything between them. Mutual survival. Mutual survival, that was all.

Dae Jung helped Yong Soo stagger into a large camp-esque place, before they went into a building that—from the outside—resembled barracks. They both were simply tired; it filled up their beings and wormed its way into their bones, which made their bodies feel as if they were weighed down with lead. They both doubted it was from a lack of sleep; it wasn't that sort of tired. This was the sort that just made them not want to move for any specific amount of time now.

They were led into what appeared to be Seoul. No, not appeared, Dae Jung realized then, It _was_ Seoul…Until he looked up for a brief moment. Fluorescent lighting filled the scene of the city. Dae Jung's and Yong Soo's eyes widened, although for far different reasons.

"We're _props_…" Dae Jung realizes in a sense of incoming dread, "Oh no…"

"This is Seoul?" Yong Soo exclaimed in bafflement. It was clearly a rhetorical question, since he turned to Dae Jung and demanded, "What do you mean, we're props?"

They were pulled off as Dae Jung explained softly, "This was a movie set that the Dear Leader had made. Nowadays, it's used as a place for field spies to get some training in a capitalist environment. A carefully controlled environment, but it allows a setting. The spies jokingly called the people who were kidnapped to live here props; they have to live and breathe the rest of their lives here. More often than not, they end up giving up any hope of freedom, and they serve their purpose. Thus, they're props."

"Then who were the actors?" Yong Soo asked nervously as they were brought to an apartment.

Dae Jung gave a look that said 'you're shitting me,' but nodded as he answered nonetheless, "The spies in training."

"…Hey, I found this," Yong Soo said as Dae Jung helped him sit down.

Curiously, Dae Jung took a folded envelope from Yong Soo and opened it up. It was a set of instructions that, when read, detailed who Dae Jung and Yong Soo were, what they were doing, and their 'lives.'

"So, looks like we both have jobs," Dae Jung mumbled as he handed the papers to Yong Soo, "And we get to keep our names…"

"How can you act so calm about this?" Yong Soo demanded angrily, shaking a bit as Dae Jung pulled over a wheelchair that had been placed nearby, "Don't you realize that we're probably going to die here?"

Dae Jung frowned and helped Yong Soo into the wheelchair. "We might. Oods are, the man who got us out will be put on trial as a traitor, and so will I. And you'll either be killed or you'll live the rest of your life here. The only reason I'm so calm is because I'm _used_ to life and death standing on a single word, Yong Soo.

Dae Jung inhaled sharply as he stepped away from Yong Soo then. "Panicking doesn't solve our problems, or fix them, so I'm not panicking! I'm sorry if you are, but if we don't keep up some semblance of calm, we'll be consumed!"

Yong Soo looked at Dae Jung in a mix of shock and abject fear. "Did they teach you this in spy school, or something?" Fear was making him angry, monstrously so. His nerves had been shot, and Yong Soo was acting horribly impulsive because of it. "If you're facing death, how are you not scared? Kim-ssi, I'm starting to think that I'm more scared than you, or that you don't feel anything at all!"

Dae Jung sighed as he replied, "Would you rather me panic? One of us needs to be calm, but yes—I'm frightened to my wits' end! But I've been having too much emotion to actually feel the small spur of this tinge of fear!" His widened eyes seemed to give Dae Jung that semblance of fear; until the end he was still lying. "But is it remains, I _do_ feel emotion—I've had panic attacks and an emotional breakdown, remember?"

Yong Soo's eyes widened as he listened to Dae Jung's long sense of screeching. It was as if Dae Jung was something—or someone else—who Yong Soo didn't even know.

Yong Soo bit his lip as he took Dae Jung's hands before they threaded into the spy's hair. He didn't like this Dae Jung, not at all, but it was still Dae Jung, and for that, Yong Soo felt obligated to help the other male out.

"When we asked for a change, I suppose this isn't what we meant," Yong Soo whispered sadly and closed his eyes.

_ Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu: Hello (formal), comrade.

Ne, annyong hashim nikka, dongmu: Yes, hello (formal), comrade.

Fatherland Liberation War: The Korean War, as it's called in North Korea. In South Korea, and everywhere else in the world, it's just…the Korean War.

Li Sun Hae: In traditional Korean culture, even if you get married, you keep your family name, because ties to the family are important. For example, if a woman gets married, she doesn't take her husband's last name. That's why Dae Jung's grandmother is _Li_. And almost 40% of Koreans have the last name of Kim/Li/or Park, due to how the three kingdoms were based. So that's the logic behind everyone being Kim.

Kim-ssi: Mr. Kim.

Don't call me that [Yong Soo]!: Yong Soo's pretty much saying to not use his given name and generational name, since he doesn't trust Dae Jung any longer, and thinks it's rude now that a person he doesn't know is using his name so informally.

Democratic People's Republic of Tyranny: This is an echo back to Ma-ri/Soo Yang's words.

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><p>AN: So yeah, review and all that...I'll be back soon enough...<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

AN: This isn't edited at all. I've just had some very bad days and between school and my new job and all the drama, the chapter probably sucks, and is short. Sorry for spamming your inbox.  
>DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this damn shit. Translations and footnotes are at the end.<p>

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><p>This is not Seoul; Dae Jung has to remind himself as he dives through far-too-familiar streets of the set. It takes just one glance up for the through to get reiterated and ingrained into his skull: This is <em>not <em>Seoul. He had to make it back to the fake apartment he shared with Yong Soo; Yong Soo was left all alone in there, and Dae Jung was frightened that he would be going back to another body on the floor; Yong Soo honestly seemed like he would at that moment in time.

Dae Jung easily pushed the (fake) door open and looked around, trying to find Yong Soo. "Sillyehamnida*, Yong Soo…" He called out, waiting for Yong Soo for a brief moment; Dae Jung wasn't sure if he was alive—no, don't think that.

"…Chigun toraoshimnikka*, Dae Jung," Yong Soo replied as he wheeled out of the room he had been in—a bedroom—with obvious difficulty. He had cleaned up as best as he could—no blood in sight now as Yong Soo did he best to navigate around the area without getting stuck in the hallway.

"Thank you. How are you?" Dae Jung asked as he walked over and moved Yong Soo to the kitchen, where there was a bit more room and no narrow corridors anywhere that Yong Soo could get stuck in.

Yong Soo just shrugged dully and settled into his spot with a bit of an empty sigh. "Does it matter, Dae Jung?"

Dae Jung frowned, but nodded and studied Yong Soo with a bit of an intense look. The teen was hopeless, but not quite yet broken. Yong Soo seemed to resist this rather well—on the mental front, at any rate—and he would not be held down. Dae Jung admired that; most new props broke within a day or two—if that—and after the injury he had taken…

"It matters," Dae Jung mumbled and shook his head, before he grabbed two instant-soup cups and nuked them in the microwave; that was that most Dae Jung could cook without poisoning someone.

Yong Soo sighed and grabbed eating utensils, before he grumbled under his breath about how the phones didn't make outside calls. Dae Jung rolled his eyes and gave Yong Soo one of the boiling hot foam cups. They both welcomed the heat gladly; while the real Seoul was a bitter negative six*, it was more alone the negative sixteen* inside the theatre set and it was even colder outside it.

The two men sat on the linoleum as best as they could; Yong Soo was awkward half-on Dae Jung as they remained close to stay warm.

Neither cared for manners right now; both Dae Jung and Yong Soo both finished the entire little amount they were given like they were a starving man at the Last Supper.

Dae Jung sighed as he watched Yong Soo. The younger man was shivering, clearly not used to being so cold in such thin clothes. Dae Jung bit his lip as he quickly wrapped his sweater around Yong Soo; if his leg got infected, it would be bad, but if Yong Soo got sick on top of that? It wouldn't be good.

Yong Soo looked at Dae Jung with a bit of an awkward blush, before he snapped, "I can take care of myself, okay?"

Dae Jung sighed as he helped Yong Soo back into the wheelchair. It was all so…awkward. He hated the tense atmosphere, but there was nothing Dae Jung could do.

So he went to cleaning. That was easy enough, right? Yeah, it had to be. Just had to be—

Dae Jung picked up a small set of papers then. It had Yong Soo's sloppily Hangul* all over the place, like it was trying to be written down before something happened.

_ They want me to testify. To what, I have no idea at all, but I refuse to do so. I guess Raivis was right though; he said Dae Jung was bad for me, but I suppose that he never thought that Dae Jung was a spy! I guess that I always knew that there was something up, but…I wanted to ignore it. I just wanted to be with him. How could I have not noticed? I mean, a lot of things make sense now, and—_

Yong Soo had crammed the papers into his waistband then. The guards had come back, and if they found this, odds are it'd be considered a confession. Yong Soo glared at them, before one person jerked him off of the floor and snarled something out; Yong Soo was too worn out to notice.

He swallowed as he watched one of the guards—with the same expression of seriousness that Dae Jung had—came back with restraints and a large black bag. Yong Soo swallowed as he was jerked around like a piece of meat for a moment, before he was put into a chair and held there by the restraints.

Yong Soo closed his eyes as he watched a medical saw come out next. He felt water splash from his eyes as the saw began to cut through flesh.

Yong Soo sobbed and pleaded for it to end, but it felt like it never would.

But it did end; Yong Soo was alive—in this fake Seoul, and crippled, but alive.

He sighed as cold fingers drew Dae Jung's sweater a bit closer to his body. Yong Soo closed his eyes for a moment as he shivered and half-smelt Dae Jung's scent, which was saturated into the coat; a bit of coal, and a whole lot of spice, and just the tiniest hint of some sent of smoked meat, and then Dae Jung's shampoo.

It brought a momentary sense of calm to Yong Soo's erratic nerves. He hated it, but the familiarity—if Yong Soo closed his eyes—helped him pretend he was at home, holding Dae Jung in his arms once more.

Yong Soo buried his nose into the warm sweater then. The first time he had met Dae Jung, he thought he was out-of-place; he had been so quiet, so calm and unassuming…To put it bluntly, Yong Soo had felt like Dae Jung would have been one of those people who would have killed themselves come exam time. Yong Soo didn't want that; although he may have met some of his friends through—and maybe because of—a suicide forum, he didn't want that for Dae Jung.

The attachment had seemed so irrational at the time. But now, Yong Soo felt more attached to Dae Jung than ever, even if it was now only a matter of mutual survival.

Yong Soo bit his lip. Ever since break had started, he had felt himself need Dae Jung so completely that it was like finding your other half and having it torn away from you.

Yong Soo bit his lip as he felt tears spill down his face. "Dammit…_Dammit!"_ Right now, he just wanted to go home, more than anything. He shook for a moment, before Yong Soo put his mind to work. There had to be a way out of here. He may have been cut off, but…He just had to find a computer, first…

Yong Soo laughed softly, then as he wrapped himself a bit tighter in the cold. Of course American and South Korean sites wouldn't be accessible, but surely Chinese wouldn't be, and China was allied with North Korea…

"Yong Soo?" Dae Jung called then as he walked into the room. "What's wrong?" He bit his lip and his hands tensed up.

"Nothing. Leave me alone." Yong Soo said in a snarky deadpan. He didn't dare tell Dae Jung yet; he didn't know if he could trust the North Korean yet.

Dae Jung sighed as he wheeled Yong Soo to the bathroom. "You need to get clean, first. Alright? I'll get the soap and such for you—"

"I'm not an _invalid!" _Yong Soo snapped. He hated how Dae Jung was treating him like one; Yong Soo wasn't a helpless little kid just because he was in a wheelchair!

"I know," Dae Jung sighed that weary sigh that made him much, much too old, like he had seen too much of the world in such a young life. "I know."

Yong Soo bit his lip then, shaking. He hated how... surrendered Dae Jung sounded. No, not hate; hate was too calm a word, too mild. He _loathed_ it, _despised_ it; it disgusted him. But even then, the words felt far, far too mild for how enraged Yong Soo was at the tone.

He sighed as he pushed Dae Jung away. "I'm able to take care of myself. Leave me alone, alright?"

"Not right now," Dae Jung hissed as his hands tightened around Yong Soo's chair, "Not when you're like this!"

Like _what?_ Yong Soo wanted to ask. Like what, suicidal? Depressed? Anyone else in his shoes would be a sobbing mess by this point! How could Dae Jung not see that anyone else would be a mess?

Sighing, Yong Soo grabbed the soap and shampoo and set them to where he'd be able to grab them. He stripped out of his shirt, sock, and shoe easily, before Dae Jung helped Yong Soo strip out of his pants and underwear.

_ No shame,_ Yong Soo told himself as he slunk into the tub, ignoring Dae Jung's blush and pointed stare elsewhere. "Calm down, Kim-ssi*," Yong Soo said bitterly, "It's not like you haven't seen a nude body before. And you've seen mine."

Dae Jung's face got even more awkward as he mumbled something incoherent and played with his hair. Yong Soo didn't hear anything, before he called, "I can't hear you, Kim-ssi. You need to speak a bit louder."

"I said the water is shut off in a half hour. I'm going to have to get clean with you, or wait until whenever it gets turned back on." Dae Jung said quickly and awkwardly.

Yong Soo blushed and nodded as he looked away. "Fine then. Get in." That was certainly not awkward at all, no way. How could it be?

Dae Jung quickly stripped down and slipped down to right behind Yong Soo. Neither said anything as they both began to clean. The tub was cramped; there wasn't enough room for one of them, let alone two. Yong Soo pulled his leg up, and Dae Jung had semi-awkwardly wrapped his legs around Yong Soo's sides, trying to not touch him.

Yong Soo did his best to pry the now-soaked bandages off; he didn't think he'd be able to clean the wound with the bandages on. He winced as he looked at it; it didn't look like it was healing.

"At least I can't see the bone…" Yong Soo mumbled. He had been cut off a little over six centimeters* above his knee, and might had just been left like that, if it hadn't been for an elder soldier screaming at them to cauterize the wound*.

The burn wound hadn't exactly healed well, or it was still healing. But as it was, what was left of Yong Soo's looked more like a raw lump of flesh than anything else. He felt more than just what was left of his leg; if Yong Soo wasn't looking right at it, he would have sworn that he was moving his toes.

Dae Jung was just silent as he wrapped an arm around Yong Soo and held him close. Yong So felt his eyes water as he leaned against Dae Jung, their bodies melting together as if they were two halves of a whole.

Yong Soo sighed as he began to cry. He just couldn't take this anymore; he wanted to be home in Seoul. Tears spilled out of his eyes like a leaky faucet, and Yong Soo wiped at his tears, the futility of the gesture not escaping him as he clung to Dae Jung in desperation, not unlike how gum clung to a school desk.

Dae Jung held Yong Soo a bit tighter, running his hand through Yong Soo's hair. He kissed Yong Soo's head and murmured softly, fully intending on calming the other down.

Yong Soo hiccupped and closed his eyes, wiping at them. "Sorry…" He whispered and curled up as he felt Dae Jung rub shampoo through his hair.

"Don't be," Dae Jung responded in that clipped, deep voice of his. His chest rumbled a bit as he murmured in a low voice, "I'd cry in your shoes, to be honest."

Yong Soo shook, before he looked up at Dae Jung. "Really? Or are you just lying again?" Yong Soo honestly felt like he couldn't take any more of it; he just needed someone to trust at that moment. Someone…_Anyone._

"What do I gain from lying?" Dae Jung asked and sighed as he rinsed Yong Soo's hair out.

"Just answer the question," Yong Soo huffed, squeezing his hair dry, "It's a yes or no."

Dae Jung laughed humorlessly, but murmured quietly, "No. I am not lying to you. I promise."

Yong Soo nodded as he suddenly hugged Dae Jung tightly and bit his lip. How did the North Korean always wiggling his way back into his heart? It just wasn't right, not at all.

Yong Soo looked up at Dae Jung, before he kissed him softly. "…I love you. Even if I have to spend the rest of forever here…"

"I'm trying to think of a way out," said Dae Jung softly.

"I think I have one," mumbled Yong Soo, "So long as Raivis checks email…"

"I'm not sure there's any internet, Yong Soo."

"Challenge accepted."

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><p>*Sillyehamnida: Sorry for disturbing you. It's a formal expression when entering someone's home, the workplace, etc, etc…<p>

*Chigun toraoshimnikka: Welcome back.

*Negative six degrees Celsius: approximately 22 Fahrenheit, for the Americans.

*Negative sixteen degrees Celsius: approximately 3 Fahrenheit, for Americans. Ain't it cold?

*Hangul: Korean characters

*Kim-ssi: Mr. Kim

*six centimeters: about 2 ½ inches, silly Americans

*cauterizing wounds: basically, you're burning the wound shut so it doesn't get infected.

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><p>AN: Reviews make me actually wanna write, guys.<br>Also, if I write a RusAme story, will anyone read it?


	14. Chapter 14

AN: Hello, hello! I'm sorry this took so long, but here it is. If anybody spots any errors, please tell me! As usual, translations and other footnotes are at the end!  
>DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi owns nothing. Seriously, guise.<p>

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><p>Yong Soo was engulfed in the work of trying to get them out. He had easily allowed himself to become engulfed in the problems it presented; he fed into it so easily, trying just about everything. Emails didn't work; there was no email access—no internet—to send any emails. They couldn't just sneak out under the cover of night, either. It was winter—snowing—and Yong Soo was stuck in his chair, unable to move through the snow drifts.<p>

Their current plan led to them hoping that there was some spy that would take pity on them. They had a letter perfectly addressed to Raivis, so their only hope was that the spy would deliver it. It was an unlikely hope, but they had to try; there was no hope if they did not even try.

Dae Jung sighed as he dove down the streets of the abandoned end of the theatre set. He told Yong Soo that he'd try for an escape route. There just had to be a way; they weren't exactly completely surrounded, were they? Dae Jung swallowed as he walked to the fence.

It was high, chain-linked and rusted; the fence had rusted barbed wire all over the top of it. Dae Jung looked at the gate. It was just was worn, and a rusted chain held it shut. He swallowed and grabbed the chain, jerking it free after a long struggle with the stiff cord of metal.

He hands felt horribly gross as they were covered in an oily and slightly rotten shade of off-brown, but Dae Jung pushed his body against the opening of the gate. It didn't move, which made Dae Jung groan. He shook his head, looking at the rust that covered his side in the fence pattern, before he grabbed the gate and tried to pull it back to open it. It moved for a moment, but after less than a centimeter of movement, the gate stopped, clearly rusted into place.

Dae Jung growled in frustration. He swore and kicked the gate, before the man made a rude gesture at it. There just had to be a way, there just had to be!

Dae Jung wiped the rust off of his hands and onto his pants. He looked around for some way to break the gate down, shaking as he mumbled aloud; "Come on….Give me some Deus ex Machina*." Communists didn't believe in God* as a general rule, but Dae Jung was willing to try anything at this point, and besides—maybe believing in Yong Soo's God* would work.

Dae Jung grabbed the gate to the fence one last time and threw himself backwards while he held onto it. The gate pried itself open loosely, a space just big enough for the needlessly small human to get through.

Something stabbed him in the leg, tearing his pants and drawing blood. Dae Jung looked down and swore as he felt he blood leak down his leg. It dripped onto the floor, leaving bright crimson stains where De Jung stood, and it stung Jung didn't feel it much at all, actually; although it was a long wound, it was relatively shallow, just barely breaking the skin in some parts.

The only thing that seriously worried Dae Jung was he rust that surrounded the shallow wound. He probably should clean it up, but Dae Jung didn't care by this point; he was hell-bent on getting out.

Dae Jung began to look around once more. He made his way into the back of the set, and began to look for something to break down the gate with. After moments of long searching, Dar Jung groaned, unable to find something. Where on earth could it be? He needed a hammer or something….

Dae Jung scanned through boxes and boxes of props of all sorts. He checked the watch he had found, before he swore. He had been here for a few hours now, and that wasn't good; the longer he was in here, he more likely he'd be caught.

He swore as he stood up, looking for a moment as he tried to find a way out Dae Jung bit his lip as he began to wander around the area, hoping to find the way out. He bit his lip as he found himself in what appeared to be a room where all the recordings in the studio were taken.

De Jung swallowed as he watched the outside world of the studio for a moment in horror. They would have known, he realized in pure sock. They would have known the plan right from the beginning.

Dae Jung felt himself becoming vaguely sick, but he didn't dare to look behind himself; he just knew that someone would be standing there. He swallowed and moved to turn around, before someone touched him on the shoulder.

"Ah! Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu!*" A young female voice said in a light tone. She pulled Dae Jung around to look at her.

He blinked in shock. She….This girl looked like mother and father….She could have been….

"Ji-Jin Ae?" Dae Jung asked with a sense of growing horror. He knees trembled, and the blood drained from his face and left it the same clammy pale as a drowned corpse. Dae Jung's palms began to sweat as his dark eyes widened and he began to tremble. No…She couldn't be alive…! She had died! Dae Jung would know; he had killed her and mother!

The girl who could have passed as Jin Ae smiled enigmatically. He dark, chocolate-brown eyes were more narrowed than Dae Jung's were, and there were framed in a slender, but heart-shaped face. Black hair that was so black it was appearing to be blue was pinned up in a bun, though it was slightly falling out.

This was a girl, not a woman, Dae Jung took note, and this was a girl of about nine or ten—Jin Ae's age.

She smiled and adjusted what appeared to be a military academy uniform "Yes, Dae Jung-dongmu?"

"No….you…you're dead," Dae Jung whispered in shocked and fear. "You're _dead!"_

"No I'm not," Jin Ae smiled as she shook her head. She smiled up at De Jung, bore she murmured, "I'm alive, big brother. I'm a prop like yourself, but alive."

He swallowed, but Dae Jung hugged his little sister to his chest and shook. "Oh...Jin Ae…" He whispered, trying to not cry.

Jin Ae smiled as she patted Dae Jung's back. "There there, big brother. Don't be sad, okay?"

Dae Jung sighed as he felt tears slip down his face. "Im not sad, Jin Ae... I'm so happy. You have no idea."

She laughed softly, contently as she murmured, "So big brother, why are you crying? Are you lost? Did you lose someone important to you?"

Dae Jung froze then. "…Yong Soo." He whispered in shock, "Oh no…."

"Run, big brother," Jin Ae whispered and sighed as she shook her head, "Before he is lost forever."

Dae Jung swallowed, before he held out his hand. "Come with me."

Jin Ae grabbed it, before the two f them took off running. The building seemed like a maze as Dae Jung sided to a stop. He felt something thud against his back, like a familiar weight.

He looked back at Jin Ae, who suddenly appeared older—about thirteen or so—but Dae Jung didn't seem to notice. It made sense in his head.

"We're lost, big brother," Jin Ae murmured and tugged on Dae Jung's braid. "We're not getting out. You won't be able to save Yong Soo, or get back to Seoul."

Dae Jung shook his head as he frowned. "No…. Jin Ae, we can't stop! We'll get out eventually!"

Wait…_eventually? _That made no sense…

"Jin Ae…" Dae Jun whispered as he watched his sister look around. "Where are we? How long have we been here?"

Jin Ae looked at Dae Jung sadly. "Brother...we're in the filming centre, remember? We've been here for nearly a year now."

Dae Jung instantly frowned as he grabbed her by the shoulders. "No! We haven't! I don't know what you're talking about, but we have not!"

Jin Ae laughed and pulled on Dae Jung's hair. "Yeah, right!" She snorted and yanked on it, a large lock of it being torn out, "Just give up, Dae Jung! If you can't tell a fantasy from reality, then you'll never escape your mind, let alone this country! Your 'republic' has brainwashed you!"

Dae Jung recoiled back as if he had been slapped. Something... something about the words seemed like a parallel to what… who said it? ("Go, Dae Jung!" Someone screamed in his mind, "Your _republic _is calling you!")

Dae Jung glared at his sister. I wasn't even a minor glare; Dae Jung easily gave a death stare, before he ran off, out of the building.

Yong Soo inhaled sharply, yet softly, as he entered one of the many buildings in the fake Seoul. IT was a 7-11, same as where Dae Jung used to work. He was going ahead and sending the letter out; Yong Soo felt a sense of paranoia, as if someone was watching him the entire time.

Yong Soo watched out the window for a moment, before he frowned. He knew Seoul—had grown up there—and this entire place simply struck him as faked; the place had a feeling of a theater, of a play, not the feel of a city.

He eyed the entire area and frowned a bit more as he wheeled out of the area with a contemplative look on his face. Where was Dae Jung? He hadn't heard from his lover yet, and that made Yong Soo paranoid; it had been a few hours since he had head from Dae Jung, and he hadn't heard so much as a squawk of sound.

Yong Soo looked around; spying what seemed to be a camera in the background. He glared at it and made a rude gesture, before continuing on his way.

_*Deus ex Machina: Literally, 'Machine of God'. It's meant as divine intervention. It's used in literary analysis, which would be the only reason Dae Jung would know it.

*Communists didn't believe in God: Especially in North Korea; communism is based on the principle of everyone being equal, and thus no higher powers. And having a religion's also illegal in North Korea, and punishable by death.

*Yong Soo's God: not sure if it's a national religion, but the top two most common religions in South Korea are Buddhism and Christianity.

*Annyong hashim nikka, dongmu: "Hello (formal) comrade!"

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><p>AN: So, read, review, and I promise the next chapter will be better. ;w;<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

AN: I am so sorry that this took as long as it did, guys! I just had my life get in the way, big time, between finals and my new job, I haven't had time to update. Thankfully, it's summer break now, so updates should be common, and I should be done with this before school starts in the end of August!  
>DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi does not own Hetalia, nor any of the characters in it. KIm Dae Jung is a fancharacter shared between Kankoku-ssi and Neitherworld. Kankoku-ssi is in no way associated with North Korea or South Korea.

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><p>Dae Jung ran. He didn't know where he was running to, but he just ran. Fight or flight had kicked in, and Dae Jung defaulted to flight. His lungs burned from a lack of air, combustion absorbing all his air. He pushed somebody away without regard as to who they were; same face syndrome was hitting Dae Jung, and hard. They were all the same face, so in Dae Jung's mind; they were all the same person.<p>

But where was Yong Soo? That was the most pressing thing in Dae Jung's mind; the lack of Yong Soo, face or otherwise knowing where he was.

He stopped, colliding right straight into a person. "Hey, watch it, girly-boy!" The person snapped, but Dae Jung simply didn't hear him; the words weren't registering in the Pyongyang native's head.

The glimmer of a fluorescent light bouncing off of a wheelchair made Dae Jung freeze. He reached out and grabbed a hold of it, effectively stopping Yong Soo in his tracks. Eyes widening, Dae Jung yanked Yong Soo into a far too intense grip, following up with the neediest hug in all of existence.

Yong Soo stopped moving as he was held. "Dae Jung?" He asked disbelievingly. After a moment of registering who it was, Yong Soo let out a sharp exhale of a breath he had been unaware that was holding. He wrapped his arms back around Dae Jung and squeezed him tightly, unaware of Dae Jung's slowly deteriorating mental stitches.

"Oh…" Dae Jung whispered, murmuring in phrases that had seemingly random words in them. They made no sense, but it was reassuring to hear Dae Jung's deep voice. It took a moment to comprehend, but Yong Soo blinked, understanding. So this was Chosongul*.

Dae Jung continued to murmur for a long few minutes, before he stopped, shaking in a seemingly calm, yet silent terror. One of his hands dug into Yong Soo's hair as Dae Jung kept holding onto him in what could have passed for a tender embrace.

"They know," Dae Jung whispered brokenly, speaking softly, as if terrified to be heard, "They _know_ about the plan, Yong Soo."

Yong Soo's eyes widened as he pulled away, leading Dae Jung along; best to not attract attention. "What? _How, _Dae Jung?" Brown eyes narrowed in gross distrust. Yong Soo squeezed Dae Jung's arm tightly as his nails dug into Dae Jung's arm. "What did _you_ tell them?"

In contrast, Dae Jung's eyes widened in shock as he murmured, "Yong Soo… I didn't. I swear. I swear, I did not tell them!" Dae Jung's voice shot up a few octaves in hysterics as his mental stitches folded in on themselves. He sounded like a little Japanese schoolgirl in an anime by this point. "I didn't! They're recording it all!"

Yong Soo's eyes widened from the horror then—faux or genuine, Dae Jung was unsure of. "Wh-what?" He squeaked out in shock, his grip loosening on Dae Jung. "How?"

"There's a recording studio." _Where Jin Ae is,_ Dae Jung's mind whispered tauntingly, trying to get Dae Jung to go back, "They could see everything, Yong Soo. We're trapped."

"No... Dae Jung, we're not!" Yong Soo said as he grabbed Dae Jung by both arms and shook him. "We're not!"

Dae Jung sighed as he continued to shake from unbidden mental terror. "We're all trapped!"

Yong Soo jerked Dae Jung around for a moment, shaking. "We are not trapped! We're in this together, Dae Jung; we are _not_ trapped!"

Dae Jung shook as he clung to Yong Soo. Some sort of hidden resolve built in him as Dae Jung internally swallowed his terror, locking it back behind a door in his mind that was begging to be released by this point. "We're getting out. I'm not staying here, and you're not either!"

Yong Soo nodded and swallowed. He was scared of how Dae Jung would just seem to shut down, but he didn't have much of a choice in worrying. "Tonight?"

"Yes!"

There was a guard change. During it, Dae Jung had pulled Yong Soo out of the studio. They explored the studio carefully, and after they found the exit, they escaped the entire film set. Dae Jung had Yong Soo sit in a truck, before Dae Jung had grabbed some keys.

"Can you drive?" Asked Dae Jung. Driving was something highly uncommon in Pyongyang, so Dae Jung had just never picked it up; he had just biked places.

Yong Soo on the other hand, had grown up in Seoul. He knew how to drive, and it was obvious by the way he pushed Dae Jung out of the driver's seat and turned the car on, backing out of the area they were in.

Dae Jung grinned as Yong Soo began to drive according to the directions being given to him. Yong Soo nodded absent-mindedly, eyes and mind on the road; they were breaking a non-existent speed limit.

Dae Jung watched the world move by them for a long, long time. The sun would have been up by now, but it was raining—down-pouring, almost. It was early dawn by the time the two hit the parallel.

About a kilometer away, Yong Soo stopped the truck. He and Dae Jung both stared each other in the eye, before they kissed, knowing this may the last time they see each other—knowing with full certainty that they may not make it back over the border.

"I love you." Both of them whispered, before Dae Jung jumped out of the truck, helping Yong Soo out of it.

"Have you ever been to the parallel?" Yong Soo asked in a hushed voice in the rain. It poured, but the parallel—even more than a kilometer away—imposed a deathly silence upon the area that Yong Soo dared to not penetrate.

"When I was a soldier," Dae Jung replied in the same volume, decresendoing the slightest bit. He sighed as he and Yong Soo began to slowly drudge to the border. "Early 2000s. It was horrible. We were so paranoid that one would leave…"

Yong Soo nodded and kissed Dae Jung's cheek, before they began to move closer to that one and a half kilometer border.

They took the better part of an hour trying to get there. Yong Soo was hobbling along in Dae Jung's grasp, shaking and swaying in an off-balanced manner due to the missing leg. They were so close, yet so far; two kilometers—give or take—separated them from freedom.

"C'mon. This way." Dae Jung whispered as he pulled Yong Soo down a nearby tunnel. It had been well-hidden by camouflage and the environment, "I'm pretty sure this one is empty."

"What?" Yong Soo asked and blinked from shock. "What's down here, Dae Jung?"

There was a moment of distrusting silence, before Dae Jung sighed wearily, offering up the secret. "These aren't the only tunnels, Yong Soo," said Dae Jung with a reluctant, yet prideful grumble, "North Korea isn't stupid; of course there are more tunnels."

This was the one tunnel Dae Jung had snuck through with the rest of his regimen of spies. He remembered the path of it well as they took step by excruciating step down the tunnel under the parallel. It was quiet, oh so quiet, and dark. The moist walls oozed water, covered in something black, black like faked coal.

At some point, Dae Jung was aware of someone following them, their distance between themselves and the other—probably a North Korean soldier—slowly decreasing. Their footsteps were heavy, heavier than the two refugees that were practically running. Dae Jung held Yong Soo a bit closer and moved a tad faster.

The soldier sped up as well, making Dae Jung panic internally. He did his best to remain cooed, so he inhaled sharply and moved even faster now—speed-walking down the tunnel.

"Hey, Yong Soo. See the exit?" Dae Jung asked softly, panting lightly. He picked Yong Soo up and began to run.

Yong Soo nodded and swallowed lightly as they reached the end, making it to a door.

Dae Jung pushed the door open and propped it open. "There should be an automobile and some guns," whispered Dae Jung in a low, intense voice. He shook and looked back, "Get in the car, and lock the door. Don't let anyone in except me. I don't care whose side they're on, or what color the uniform is."

Yong Soo nodded as he threw himself out, trying to make it out to the automobile as fast as he physically could move in the deluge of rain. He slipped and fell into the mud, but began crawling. He grabbed the side of the truck—for a truck it was—and pulled himself into it, slamming the door behind him. He locked the doors and grabbed the gun that Dae Jung had promised there was.

Dae Jung looked back over at Yong Soo, internally sighing in relief when he saw the other male was safe, before he glanced back in a bored manner, as if asking, 'Are you ready now?'

A shot from a gun went off right next to Dae Jung's head, a loud explosion almost deafening him in his right ear. "Comrade, we don't want to kill you!"

Knowing that it was most certainly true—if they intended for Dae Jung to be dead, they would have shot him in the head, not just barely missed him; that was a warning shot—Dae Jung held up his hands in surrender. He was biding his time; hopefully Yong Soo would have had the common sense to get out of there. "I surrender," said Dae Jung calmly.

Grinning with a sense of smug self-satisfaction, the soldier made his way to Dae Jung, and pushed him to the ground. "Hands where I can see them," The order was clipped, barked out, "Where's the other defector who was with you?"

"There were no other defectors. I am the only defector." Dae Jung said, phrasing his statement cautiously, "I do not know where the other is who was with me." And that was not a lie either. Dae Jung didn't know where Yong Soo was anymore…technically.

Though he hoped it was somewhere safe.

A loud clatter happened outside as troops stormed into the tunnel. They filled the tunnel up as it seemed they were everywhere. It took a moment of looking before Dae Jung spotted what he needed to see—American and South Korean flags on uniforms that looked nothing like the ones he was accustomed to; they were camouflaged, more like police, than like the spiffy uniforms he was used to.

"Drop the gun!" One of the South Korean troops barked as they aimed their gun at the armed North Korean. "Drop the gun, hands in the air, both of you!"

Dae Jung did as he was told, beginning to laugh a bit hysterically. He scanned the group, spotting a Yong Soo leaning on one of the troops. Body under some control other than his own, Dae Jung ran right over, hugging Yong Soo tightly.

"We made it out!" He cried joyfully, the two holding onto each other. Dae Jung slumped to his knees, rocking Yong Soo and kissing his head for a moment. "We made it out…We made it out!"

The reunion was quickly broken up. Dae Jung and Yong Soo were pulled apart and led out to a military truck. Along with the North Korean soldier, all three of the men were handcuffed and put in the back of a truck, along with some soldiers—most South Korean, though Dae Jung—and the other North Korean—felt themselves staring at the American troops.

On some base level of racism, Dae Jung kept staring at the ones that weren't predominantly Asian. The white men—there was one with darker skin—just about anyone who didn't look just like them made Dae Jung a bit confused.

The troops began to converse in English. Dae Jung scowled; he understood a few, very, very basic things; he hadn't been a particularly _good_ English student, and had quit the topic after a year. Yong Soo, however, was murmuring translations in his ear.

"They want to interrogate us," translated Yong Soo, "They want names, ranks, numbers, everything. They think we're all part of an invasion—"

"_You in the middle! Shut up!"_ One of the American soldiers snapped, still in English. Yong Soo understood and did as he was told. The rest of the ride was quiet, until they pulled up to a small, unidentified base, and led the three 'prisoners' in.

All was silent as Dae Jung, Yong Soo, and the other soldier were led into separate rooms. Dae Jung sat alone in silence for a long time, before a South Korean troop came in.

"Name?" He asked strictly, clearly the unamused sort.

"Kim Dae Jung."

"Place and year of birth?"

"Pyongyang, Democratic People's Republic of Korea. Year 1977. I will be twenty-five in August."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm defecting from the Party. I choose to spend the rest of my life in any other country but my homeland."

"Who did you bring with you?"

"A South Korean—age eighteen—by the name of Im Yong Soo. He and I were in a gulag together. He is a native of Seoul, and attends university there."

Dae Jung swallowed as the soldier stared at him. "He claims a different story. He says you kidnapped him and held him hostage. He claims that you are returning him due to a favor being given to you in the South. Somebody is to help you sneak over a platoon."

A swell of panic rose up in Dae Jung. He bit his lip, before he thought; _they just want to see if I'm lying. Yong Soo gains nothing by lying. He hated it when I hurt him._

"Sir, that's a lie," replied Dae Jung, "I am telling you the truth as it is. Yong Soo and I have fled from a gulag for political prisoners and their families. I no more wish to be a part of North Korea than you do."

The soldier nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Dae Jung alone to his thoughts.

Dae Jung swallowed as he thought helplessly; I_ can only hope Yong Soo tells the truth._

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><p>*Chosongul: North Korean 'version' of the Korean language. Unlike its counterpart—Hangul—it is all 'pure' Korean words, instead of a combination of Sino-Korean (Chinese-based Korean words), 'pure' Korean, and 'Hangulised' words from other languages. For example, the word for ice cream: in Hangul, it is just a Hangulised version of the word 'ice cream.' In Chosongul, it translates to 'ice fluffy thing.'<p>

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><p>AN: Well, I hope you liked it! Please, leave a review; that feedback is highly important, not only so you can have input in my story, but so I can understand as an author how to best share the story.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

AN: Okay, okay, a month later isn't too bad in comparison, is it? I completely and utterly blame any update on the lovely commieburger shipper IcySkyWind who's writing a 30 Days on the DMZ challenge that you should all go fucking read right now. Or else you're fired.  
>DISCLAIMER: Kankoku-ssi is in no way related to either Korea, or the DMZ, bur they are high on a list of places to visit before I die. She owns KIm Dae Jung a bit more than Neitherworld does, but when it's time to roleplay them, Dae Jung is Neitherworld's. Yong Min and Sun Hae-new characters-belong to my girlfriend Jaljine of tumblr (look at me, unable to remember fanfic accounts), and Kankoku-ssi is in no way related to Hetalia, and Im Yong Soo does not belong to her.

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><p>An old man quietly walked into a cottage in a place far removed from where Dae Jung and Yong Soo were. The old man just walked in, leaning heavily on his cane. Long ago, his hair was the same shade of black as his grandson's, but now, it was white from age; his prime had been before the war, a good sixty or seventy years ago. Thankfully, his eyes were not yet marred by the same cataracts that had blinded his wife.<p>

"Sun Hae?" The old man called softly, looking around the place they had called home since their son had left. "I'm home, dear."

A woman walked in, seemingly just as old—if not older—than her husband. Her eyes were marred by cataracts; she was blind now, the lenses in her eyes long clouded over. The majority of the lines on her face were laugh-lines however, so the obvious smile on her old, worn face was far from foreign. "Yes, Yong Min?" She asked her husband.

The smile on the old man's—Yong Min's—face grew then. He slowly walked over and hugged the old woman tightly. "I am back. I saw him one last time. He looks like his mother, the poor dear."

Sun Hae laughed lightly as the two of them sat on the small porch on the outside of the cottage. She gently felt for Yong Min's hair and untied it from the hair tie he kept it back in. "Oh? He does now, does he?" Sun Hae's question was quiet as her arthritic, shaky hands began to braid Yong Min's hair back, the same braid she always had, even back during the occupation, so long ago that it was out of any living North Korean's memory.

"Yes, he does. But he has his father's facial expressions. I don't think he laughed much, until recently, and already his faced looked old." Yong Min sighed softly, "He seemed so…tragically beautiful, like his mother. He had her face, but those expressions…It was as if Dae Soo was staring back at me through his son." He let out a small wince as Sun Hae tugged a knot out of his hair.

She sighed softly, smiling a bit. "It's beautiful in my head." The words were whispered softly, slowly as she kissed Yong Min's neck tenderly. "But oh, how I wish I could have met him."

"He has Dae Soo's voice. Nothing poetic word-wise, not like Dae Soo was, but the way he spoke… Like he had known so much more than he was letting on. It was our son, Sun Hae." Yong Min chuckled lightly, before he sighed. "He escaped."

Sun Hae's face fell for a moment, before she finished Yong Min's braid. She sat next to her husband and laid her head on his shoulder. "Ah…His name is Dae Jung, right?"

"Yes, dear."

Sun Hae was quiet once more. Slowly, they watched a truck pull up to the end of the road, which was still a distance away from the cottage.

"I can't wait to see our son again, Yong Min."

Dae Jung was quiet as he waited in his cell. They were no longer at the holding cell on the paralell; instead, Yong Soo and he had been moved to Geneva, Switzerland.

It wasn't much of a cell; Yong Soo was with him, and it was more furnished than Dae Jung's apartment in Seoul had been. Right now, Dae Jung was in that place between half asleep and half awake, living through memories while he held Yong Soo protectively close to him, the other Korean completely passed out, not used to the time zone.

_Dae Jung had been so uncertain when he had been pulled out of the interrogation room. He had been staring soldiers down, with the same intimidating expression, all watching him like he was a rabid animal. Dae Jung didn't smile back; he just directed his gaze to the one who had appeared to be in charge._

"_Where's Yong Soo?" Dae Jung had demanded as he remembered his arms being released. He made no threatening movements though; the last thing Dae Jung needed was to let them think he was a threat._

_However, the question was answered as Yong Soo was wheeled out by an American—a nurse, it appeared. Yong Soo's eyes had lit up brightly as he instantly called out Dae Jung's name._

_Dae Jung had run right over to him and hugged him tightly, one of the soldiers snapping at him. Ignoring the outside world for a moment, Dae Jung fell to his knees and laughed happily as he held Yong Soo close to him. They had just hugged for a long moment, laughing and crying happy tears._

_But the moment had been interrupted as they were pulled away. They were to leave the country—anyone who had been close to them had been relocated for safety—and were to present this to the UN council._

_Dae Jung remembered being about ready to scream; his rage had just kicked in. No. He refused. He would not go in front of people whom he had been raised—had been brainwashed into—to hate. Not them. But Yong Soo had pulled him down, calmed him down, by rubbing his knuckles and making a 'shoosh' sound and kissing his head. And Dae Jung's rage had been all over just like that._

Dae Jung kissed Yong Soo's head lightly as he closed his eyes for just a moment. It was hard to remember they weren't running in the snow to a car. That they weren't going to freeze to death. That they had escaped relatively intact. Yong Soo's leg wasn't coming back, and Dae Jung had been sentenced to crutches due to the tazer, but they were all healed and bandaged up. They were a bit sick, but they were not dying in a gulag outside of Pyongyang.

Yong Soo's eyes opened as he looked up at Dae Jung. "You need sleep." He murmured tiredly and pulled Dae Jung down to kiss him. "Just close your eyes; I know you're still wide awake, Dae Jung. There's a guard outside the door. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I will stay awake for a bit and let you sleep. Nobody's going to spirit us away. We are safe now."

Dae Jung chuckled softly as one of his eyes opened. Yong Soo just looked tired and beaten. He no longer had that haunted look in his eye. Food, sleep, and healthcare had taken away most of the taller of the two's troubles. Dae Jung squeaked as Yong Soo rolled them over though, putting the North Korean onto of his chest.

"Yong Soo—"

"You need sleep, Dae Jung. Just close your eyes for a bit, okay? We're not supposed to go easily for another few hours. A nap will make you feel better." Yong Soo pressed a tender kiss to Dae Jung's head as he leaned back on the couch they had both been on. "Besides, you're like a feather against me, you're that light. Sleep now, okay?"

Dae Jung quickly found that he couldn't argue. Yong Soo was rubbing his neck and back tenderly, and the lure of sleep had been appealing. He had been fighting off the demons of sleep for hours, watching the clock now. Perhaps it was best that he did take a nap, Dae Jung found himself thinking as he quietly fell asleep, snoring lightly on Yong Soo's chest.

The next thing Dae Jung was aware of was being in a suit and sitting next to Yong Soo at a meeting. They were both awkward and stiff, translators next to them translating as needed. Yong Soo was often quicker and would whisper what was going on in Dae Jung's ear.

Dae Jung would nod when either the official one or his lover whispered in Hangul in his ear. Dae Jung swallowed as he squeezed Yong Soo's hand. For a moment, neither said anything. The entire council was staring at them, but the attention focused to Yong Soo as he was wheeled to the front of the UN to begin his 'speech.'

"_I'd like to apologize in advance_," Yong Soo began nervously, "_The most of my English I use is with my roommate. My name is Im Yong Soo, and I'm from Seoul. I'm only a freshman at university, so I'm still young. But I never ever would consider myself a traitor._"

For the most of Yong Soo's speech, Dae Jung could only pick out a few words here and there. English may have been required, but by far, it had never been one of Dae Jung's strong points—the only one being worse was biology.

"_I've only known Dae Jung since the beginning of the semester, but I would like to say that I trust him with my life. As far as I was concerned, he was another freshman like me. Maybe a bit too stressed out by college, and working a job, but if he was a spy, I didn't know until we were pulled to North Korea._

"_Dae Jung was a spy. But I had thought he was caught up in the wrong stuff. I was wrong, and that's how I lost my leg. They wanted information I don't think he had. They tried to make him crack, so there went my leg." _Yong Soo pointed to the missing limb as rather obvious proof.

"_We were there for I don't know how long. Maybe hours, maybe days. It all kind of just blended together, although I know now it is July. We had been moved to what could have been Seoul. I thought it was at first, but then again, Dae Jung was panicking because I was dying from blood loss, so I don't believe my opinion can count for very much._

"_We escaped, but not before I remember Dae Jung having a very wildly erratic breakdown. He had a nervous breakdown back in January, during winter break, and I remember him crying when Kim Jong-Il had died, but this was the one time I remember being scared that—although he wasn't going to die—that something even worse was happening and he was unreachable._

"_The first few days back in South Korea were pure torture. Although North Korea had been bad, in a way, South Korea was worse. We were both ill, and we were both injured. They told you the medical results already, but there are a few things I would like to add in. Dae Jung still can't walk right. He limps around, and it's obvious I can't walk. I've woken up in a cold sweat, and I remember one night Dae Jung had barricaded himself in his closet to the point where nobody could get in. He was screaming about not going back._

"_This doesn't sound like much, but that was only the first two or three days. I don't think either of us have had a proper sleep since before finals—please remember I am a college kid, and Dae Jung was passing as one. Finals are also in December. Eating properly has also been a luxury we haven't had. Put simply, we were denied rights as human beings. Thank you for listening to me. I'm—to be blunt—not sure why I have to tell you this, but this is the bare minimum of what I'm going to be telling the therapist. Thank you for your time."_

There was no round of clapping. This was simply not the time or place for it. Dae Jung next limped up to the stand. He looked at Yong Soo, before the translator began to say something.

Dae Jung's speech was more chopped up; he had to wait every few sentences for the translator to do their job.

"I grew up in Pyongyang, so I can answer firsthand just about any question involving living there, and I will probably have to. There are radios built into the walls that are always playing propaganda, so the sound of silence makes me uneasy—yes, silence has a sound. There are the obvious differences between North and South Korea, but I can tell you the minor ones are what make it completely different.

"There are no people outside in Pyongyang. Although during the winter, the city is blanketed in snow, it's an empty city. Seoul is alive in a way that Pyongyang is not. Then again, for my stay in the city, the only time I had to worry about food was when I was looking for a job; I can't cook well, food is expensive, and the money I had been set up with had run out.

"I had no need to worry about my power being shut off, except when I thought I was going to be fired from my job. In Pyongyang, there are blackouts during winter, so I was accustomed to wearing more than three sweaters.

"So the mock-Seoul they have is where the spies have been trained. It is very different from Seoul, I have come to notice. But that should go without saying.

"In Seoul, I have never had to worry beyond getting caught. In Pyongyang, I had to worry almost every second of the day. If my parents were alive, they could tell you that their son was a born worrier. But my parents are both dead.

"Another difference between the countries? On record, neither of my parents _are _dead, yet I can tell you I found both of their bodies. North Korea does not recognize suicides. Who would want to leave our great country? My parents are not listed as dead. I've buried them both and worn the traditional white clothing for them.

"Although technically it is my republic, I never wish to return to above that border. I'd be put to death, or be put into a gulag. Although death would be a more pleasing option out of the two, it is simply not happening. Not when they are involved. Thank you for your time."

Dae Jung swallowed as he sat back next to Yong Soo. The taller of the two smiled at Dae Jung and squeezed his hand.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur.

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><p>AN: Hey remember that part where I beg for reviews? This is it.<p> 


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